Seeking the Incomplete
by Marz1
Summary: A BTVS FMA crossover. To keep the balance on the hellmouth, the Powers that be prevent the Slayer from returning to life in this world...but the powers don't control every world.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:** This story is a Fullmetal Alchemist Buffy the Vampire Slayer crossover, and contains some spoilers for the Buffy TV series and the Fullmetal Anime. This is set after the end of season five for Buffy and after episode eight in the Fullmetal Anime, so there could be spoilers for both.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Joss Wheden does), or Fullmetal Alchemist.( Hiromu Arakawa does) Please don't sue me.

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Part 1 No Returns**

Willow Rosenberg walked slowly around the grave, pouring a circle of salt from the blessed clay pot. She looked at the head stone.

_**Buffy Summers**_

_**She saved the world, a lot**_

She couldn't accept it. She wouldn't. She didn't have to.

When the circle was complete, she crossed it, pouring out three more lines to make a triangle inside it. She waved Xander over. He handed her another pot, this one containing red sand. In the center of the triangle she carefully poured out the sand in the outline of a human form.

"Is that it?" Xander asked.

"No," Willow said. "I still have to activate it."

The book she had found called this Alchemy, though it seemed more like Native American sand spells to her. If this didn't work she had an ancient Egyptian spell to try. _Don't think about failure._

Xander stood back as Willow knelt down and placed her hands on the circle. She focused.

The circle began to glow with bright blue light. Willow could feel power flowing into it, not from her own life force, but from something beyond. The ground started to shake. Suddenly behind the head stone, she saw something, not quite real yet, but growing more solid by the second.

She didn't know what it was. The book hadn't mentioned it, but she knew enough to recognize a dimensional gate way. You didn't live on the Hellmouth all your life without observing at least a few weak spots in the fabric of reality.

_Buffy would be very pissed if I brought her back by destroying our world._

She tried to pull her hands away from the circle, but they were stuck. She couldn't stop the reaction. The blue light grew brighter and the thing behind the head stone became solid. It was a giant black monolith covered in runes and soulless stone eyes.

"Xander!" she called.

She felt his hands on her shoulders as he tried to pull her free, but his efforts availed nothing. The monolith split open and thousands of shadowy hands reached out for them.

The Sunnydale cemetery filled with screams, and the subtler sound of shifting earth, as soil tumbled into a suddenly empty grave.

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The air was still, and she was certain it should not have been. She blinked up at the roof of the cavern, hundreds of feet above. She knew she should get up, that she should move, but she couldn't. It was all wrong. Her mouth opened. Her chest expanded. Her back arched. She breathed. It was wrong. It was wrong, but she couldn't stop.

She lay as still as she could, waiting. Something was supposed to happen. She knew she had fallen, so she did not get up. If she stayed down, she could not fall again.

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**Months Later…**

Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes hummed to himself as he walked down the street. His daughter Elicia was going to be a year old in only twenty more days. He was still trying to find the perfect present for her. He'd already bought an entire zoo of stuffed animals and an army of dolls, but none of it seemed good enough. He knew he would find the one thing he need today though, so even the rain suddenly spattering his blue uniform couldn't ruin his good mood.

There was a short, shabby figure standing in front of the toy store. With shoulders hunched and moth eaten scarf covering most of her head, he didn't realize it was a woman until he saw her dirty face reflected in the window. She didn't seem to see him. She was looking at a stuffed pig. It was down in the corner, sun faded and covered with dust. He didn't see why they made stuffed farm animals. Children would get very upset when they found out the toy they were playing with was the same thing they were having for dinner.

"I used to have one like that," she said hoarsely, finger tapping the window.

It left a greasy print behind.

"Oh," Hughes said. "That's nice."

Hughes couldn't stand depressed people. He always felt obligated to put them in a better mood. He considered showing her a picture of his daughter Elicia, but he didn't want the photo to get soaked in the rain. The toy was in pretty bad shape. It probably wasn't more then a hundred sen. He was considering just buying it for her when the owner of the store came out. He was usually such a nice man, but at that moment his face was red.

"I told you not to come around here again!" shouted the owner, Mr. Bolo.

Hughes was shocked. He knew people got annoyed when he talked to them for more then a few hours about his daughter, (there was just so much to tell) but he didn't expect Mr. Bolo to get so upset.

The woman hunched even further and scurried away up the street.

"Oh," Hughes said.

"Sorry about that Mr. Hughes," Mr. Bolo said, taking out a rag and wiping the finger prints off the window. "She comes by a couple of times a week, dirties up the window and scares off the customers. People like that should be locked up."

"She just seemed sad to me," Hughes said.

He looked up the street after her. The situation was getting more depressing by the second. The homeless woman was rapidly soaking in the rain, and everyone around her just looked on in disgust. A well dressed lady dragged her toddler across the street to avoid her, hurrying as the headlights of a military transport truck washed over them. Hughes saw the toddler drop a ball in the road. As soon as his mother had him on the opposite curb, she let go of his hand. Hughes knew something bad was going to happen. He shouted and started to run. His feet slipped. The child was in the road and the mother hadn't even turned yet. He shouted again. The brakes screeched. Between one blink and the next, the boy was flung back into his surprised mother's arms, and someone else was making a dull thumping noise under the truck's tires. A second later there was another thump as the double axles supporting the truck bed struck as well.

He didn't want to look. The homeless woman from the toy store lay on her back, pinned between the tire and the cobble street. Her arms were stretched out, her fingers twitched. The driver of the truck was climbing out.

"Go forward!" Hughes ordered. "Get that thing off her!"

The driver climbed back into the cab, but the engine wouldn't turn over. The woman was looking around. After a moment her hands stopped twitching and she started clawing at the tire sitting on her chest. Hughes knelt down next to her.

"Is the kid ok?" she asked, hoarsely.

Hughes looked across the street. The woman with the toddler was rushing away. She hadn't even said thank you.

"The kid is fine," Hughes said. "That was really brave of you."

"The engine is flooded!" The driver called.

"Just release the break! We'll push it!" Hughes shouted.

He and the driver, and several pedestrians Hughes drafted started to push. The truck rolled. The woman watched almost boredly as the tire bounced away from her.

"Hang on ma'am. A doctor is coming," Hughes said.

She shook her head. "Don't have any money."

"That's the least of your problems," muttered the truck driver.

"Go find a blanket or something," Hughes ordered.

The rain came down harder, and the woman's soaked scarf was falling over her mouth. Hughes pulled it away. As the rain washed away layers of dirt, he realized she was younger then his wife, probably not even twenty yet.

"I can't find a blanket," the driver said.

Hughes frowned and took off his jacket.

"Hang on Miss, help is coming."

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**The next day…**

Hughes left work early so he could make a stop at a certain store and still make it to the hospital before visiting hours were over. He was surprised to hear the mystery girl had been moved from the intensive care ward to the observation ward. He was in such a state he didn't even show the nurse pictures of his daughter.

"But she was completely mangled by a truck!" Hughes said as the nurse lead him to the girl's room.

"So I heard. The doctors are completely stumped. When she was brought in she had broken ribs and a punctured lung not to mention most of the organs in her abdomen were crushed. Today she's awake and asking for food."

"But that's not possible!"

"You don't have to tell me. She seems to be a little out of it, but I don't know if that predates the accident. She won't tell us her name. If you could get some basic information from her that would be a big help."

The nurse waved him through the double doors to the observation ward, and then marched back to her station. There were only a few people there that evening; an old woman with raspy cough, a bored dock worker with his legs in traction, a man with his jaw wired shut. Hughes saw the woman he was seeking in the bed nearest the window. He almost didn't recognize her with out the dirt and shabby clothes, but her hunched posture was the same.

"I brought you something!" Hughes declared in sing song voice as he approached the bed.

She looked up with a startled and confused expression but when she saw him smiling at her, she tentatively smiled back. He took the stuffed pig from inside his coat. Her face lit up and she held out her arms for the toy. In that instant he would have sworn she was only five years old.

"Thank you!" She mumbled into the side of the stuffed animal, which she was not so successfully trying to hide her face in.

Hughes watched for a moment. He suspected she had significant mental problems, to be out wandering the streets at her age. She probably didn't have a family either.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Don't know," she answered, still talking into the side of the pig.

"Do you remember anything from before the truck hint you?" he asked.

She nodded.

"It's a blur. It bubbles up and for a minute I can see how it used to be, but then its gone and all I remember is the circle. I know it was different before I was in the circle."

"The circle? What kind of circle?"

"I've seen circle people around the city. Smaller circles though. They draw the circles and things change. I tried to ask one about how it worked. He was…rude."

"Do you mean alchemy? Alchemists?" Hughes asked.

She shrugged. He watched her play with the stuffed pig. She marched it across the hospital bed. He knew the military experimented with medical alchemy, and he had suspicions that humans were sometimes used as unwilling test subjects. Of course she could just be schizophrenic. Then again crazy didn't explain being crushed under a truck and walking around fine and dandy the next day.

"You were put inside a Transmutation circle and something happened?"

"Light," she said.

"Anything else?" Hughes asked.

"I have a mark. They must have done it. 'No tattoos or you'll stay in your room for a month young lady'. I remember a woman saying that too me."

"Your mother?" he suggested.

"Maybe."

"Can I see the mark?" he asked, hopping it wasn't anywhere too private.

She nodded, leaned forward and pointed. The hospital gown wasn't tied to well and he could see the mark she was talking about, right in the center of her back. It was definitely a transmutation circle of some kind; a stylized dragon was eating its own tail, circling around a six point star. There was another circle around the outside of the dragon, and outside of that more runes.

"Do you know your name?"

She bit her lower lip.

"Do you remember?" he asked.

"I think so."

"So…?"

"SummerJoyBunnyAnneWillXander," she said.

"What?"

"Summer Joy Bunny Anne Will Xander," she repeated. "I know it doesn't sound like a real name, but I'm sure that's my name. Or maybe I'm only two of those names. I'm sure, 100 percent about the Summer part."

"Then how about I just call you Summer?"

She nodded.

"I'm Maes Hughes by the way."

She nodded again.

"And this is my wife Gracia and my daughter Elicia!" he said pulling a photo from his pocket. "Aren't they the prettiest two ladies you've ever seen?"

Summer inspected the photograph carefully and then nodded. "They look very…happy."

Hughes proceeded to tell Summer about how Alicia had taken her first step last month and how she hated mashed peas, which he thought were the best vegetable, and liked mashed lima beans which he thought were the worst. He didn't realize how long he'd been talking until the nurse tapped him on the shoulder.

"Visiting hours are over," the nurse said.

"Can I leave too?" Summer asked. "I feel fine."

"No," the nurse said. "The doctors want to run more tests tomorrow."

"I don't like it here," Summer said. "They give me funny looks, and I hear them talking about me in the other rooms."

The nurse sighed. "No one's talking about you Miss."

"You were telling the doctor with the scar on his lip that I was retarded. And you told him you wouldn't mind going with him to the theater on Friday."

The nurse's mouth dropped open. "I…uh…didn't realize I was being so loud. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"What do I care?" Summer said sourly. "I'm retarded right?"

At the moment she was sounding like a regular grumpy teenager.

"Still, visiting hours are over. Your friend can come visit you tomorrow."

"Bye Summer," Hughes said. "I'll be back tomorrow, and I'll see what I can do about that thing we talked about."

"The mashed peas?" she asked.

"No…uh…the circle thing," he realized she was smirking a bit and must have been making a joke.

"See you tomorrow then," she said. "Or if not…Thank you."

She held up the stuffed pig's front leg and waved it at him. "Mr. Gordo says thank you too."

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**And the next…**

Hughes approached the hospital in a more solemn mood. He had tried to find some reference to the symbol the girl bore on her back, but none of the Alchemy books he had access to told him anything useful. He wanted to ask his co-worker Major Armstrong, but the Major had been sent to deal with riots in the refugee camp to the south of the city. As he approached the nurse's station, he realized something was wrong. The nurse from the previous day was at the front desk, but she looked haggard and shaky.

"I'm here to visit the mystery girl," he said, trying to sound friendly.

The nurse didn't look at him as she responded. "She isn't here."

"What?"

"She was discharged this morning. She didn't want to stay."

"She just walked out?" he asked.

The nurse continued to look down. "Yes."

Hughes reached out and tilted the nurse's chin up.

"What really happened?" he asked.

"They took her," the nurse whispered.

"Who?" Hughes asked.

The nurse reached out and tapped the gold bars on the collar of his uniform. "They came last night with a dozen soldiers. They escorted her out at gun point."

"Did they say who ordered them here?"

The nurse shook her head. "But I heard them mention the name 'Gran'," she whispered.

"Thanks," he said.

He turned and started to leave, but the nurse caught his arm. Silently she put the stuffed pig in his hand. He nodded and hurried outside.

Hughes tried to stay cheerful at dinner that night, but even Gracia's marvelous cooking couldn't keep his mind off Summer. She had now been officially "disappeared", probably to some horrible lab, and he couldn't do a thing for her. Gran was a General, and Fuhrer Bradley's right hand Alchemist. Unless Hughes had a hundred upstanding citizens as witness and a smoking gun, he couldn't even open an investigation.

"Something at work?" his wife asked.

Hughes shook his head.

"The girl at the hospital?" she asked.

Hughes nodded. He'd told her how the girl had saved a little boy's life in front of the toy store. He hadn't mentioned the Alchemy though. He trusted Gracia completely, but he didn't want to put extra burdens on her shoulders.

"Did something happen to her?" Gracia asked.

He was about to speak when the sound of shattering glass from outside made them both jump. Hughes went to the window and looked out. It was pitch black. Someone had broken out the street light. A few moments later there was a soft rap on the door. He went to the cabinet where he kept his gun, and waved Gracia toward the stairs. Silently his wife crept up to the second floor, to make sure their daughter was safe. The rapping came again, just as softly. Hughes turned the dead bolt and opened the door a crack. There was a hunched figure on the doorstep. He heard the soft splatter of dripping blood on the bricks.

"Can I come inside?" Summer whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeking the Incomplete

By Marz

Part 1 The Kindness of Strangers

It was quiet in the hospital, and warm, but Summer would have felt safer on the streets. Something about the smell of the rooms and the color of the walls. It was all sickness. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but the voices echoing through the halls wouldn't let her. She wondered how the others failed to notice. The men in the other room where practically shouting.

"-don't know. The labs didn't report any breakouts. She could be an independent experiment."

"Who knows she's here?"

"Hughes from the Court Marshal Office brought her in."

"Does he know anything?"

She slipped out of bed and crept to the air duct in the corner of the room. She pressed her ear to it.

"As far as we know, he only saw her get run over and brought her in."

"Will he be too much trouble? Should we-"

"No. It will draw too much attention. He's an old friend of the Flame's. We don't need that on our asses at the moment."

"Do we have enough men to keep the situation under control?"

"We'll know in a few minutes won't we?"

She turned away from the grate as she heard the squealing breaks of cars outside. She crept to the window and peered out. There were dozens of soldiers outside. She didn't know if they could see her, but their guns were already aimed at her window. She ducked.

_I was hit by a truck and I'm fine. Will bullets kill me?_ She thought. She remembered being afraid of guns, but she couldn't remember why or when. The doors of hospital were slamming open. Booted feet were running up the stairs. Something squirmed in her chest and her teeth clenched. _Fight. Kill them_, it said. She looked around at the three other people sleeping in the room. They could get hurt if someone started shooting. The doors of observation ward swung open and she darted under her bed. It wasn't a brilliant hiding place, but she was satisfied to hear someone shout "She's gone!" as they ran into the room. She had a moment to smile before a booted foot kicked the bed over, leaving her exposed.

"Get up! You're coming with us!" one of them ordered.

There were a lot of them.

"Why?" she asked, scrambling back as one of the soldiers tried to grab her.

"Shut up!" ordered the leader, sticking a gun in her face.

"She's really not well enough to be discharged," objected a very shaky voice from the doorway.

Summer looked over and saw the nurse standing there. The woman looked as if she were about to faint.

"Shut up!" the leader said, as he swung the gun towards the nurse.

Summer lunged for his gun. She hadn't really meant to do anything but take it from him, but the barrel just came apart under her hand. All the other soldiers were pointing guns at her again.

"Uh…oops?" she said, putting up her hands.

The back of the van was freezing cold, and she hunched up as they sped through the city. There were no windows, but the distinct smell of the air told her where they were. She spent most of her days wandering Central, and most of her nights beneath it. They'd come through the markets and then passed into the industrial sector. Now the faint smell of human waste and panicked sweat told her they were close the military prison. The van stopped and she heard a gate open. They rolled through.

She looked down at her hands. They'd chained them together, but she was fairly certain she could get loose. She didn't know why. She must have done something like this before, though she couldn't recall when or how. The back doors of the van opened. There were men in armor standing there, as well as soldiers.

"Move!" ordered one of the soldiers who had kidnapped her from the hospital.

She climbed out of the van looking all around. They were in a yard with high walls topped with barbed wire. A huge square building loomed over them. It's few windows were barred. There didn't seem to be any innocent bystanders around. She didn't know why she cared. Nobody had been nice to her in this place, except for Hughes, and maybe that nurse wasn't so bad.

"Move!" the soldier ordered again.

She kicked him in the face. As he fell backwards she grabbed the front of his coat and threw him at one of the armored men, knocking him over. The helmet flew off the armor, revealing it was empty. Some of the soldiers shouted in surprise, but she didn't think anything of it. She knew that in itself was odd. Something hit her in the back and she stumbled, feeling something wet drip onto her legs. She looked over and saw she had been shot. She was surprised that it didn't hurt that badly. She lunged at the nearest soldier, grabbed his arm and swung him in a circle, knocking over several others before letting him sail off to land in the dirt thirty feet away.

A door in the building burst open and a huge man stomped out. He was bald with a pointed mustache and a very disdainful expression. Summer decided to be preemptive and grabbed another soldier, throwing him at the new guy. He side stepped, allowing the soldier to land head first on the concrete steps.

"Report!" The huge man ordered.

"General Gran sir," one of the soldiers said. "We will have the prisoner under control in a moment sir."

Gran snorted. Summer saw he was wearing huge steel gauntlets on his hands. They were inscribed with circles. He was an Alchemist. Gran slammed the gauntlets together and they flashed with blue light. Summer dodged as one of the empty armor suits tried to tackle her. In that moment of distraction Gran closed the gap between them. He drove his left gauntlet into her stomach. Blue light flashed again. Summer gagged and choked as the contents of her stomach and a whole lot of blood poured out of her mouth. She stumbled away from Gran. Her insides suddenly felt stiff and brittle. She tried to curl up around the wound and she felt something crack. She looked up and saw he was reaching for her again. She pulled herself upright, feeling other things snap and crack inside.

She ran towards the wall. More bullets scattered around her. She zigged and zagged. One grazed her leg but she ignored it. She leapt. Her fingers scrabbled at the top edge of the wall. Her feet kicked against the bricks. With a final momentous effort she caught the wire on the top of the fence and pulled. It slashed her hand but she dragged herself over. There was shouting behind her. The gate in the wall was swinging open and soldiers and cars were pouring out. She ran.

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She looked at the tea cup in her hands. She couldn't meet their eyes.

"I'm sorry," Summer said. "I didn't know where else to go."

"It's alright," Hughes said softly. "Tell us what happened."

Hughes looked over at Gracia, but she only looked back. Hughes had pulled the girl off their porch and rushed her to the kitchen. She'd left a trail of blood on the carpet. They'd wrapped her in a blanket and given her a towel to press against her oozing stomach. Hughes didn't know what else they could do for her injuries. General Gran, the Iron Blood Alchemist, was a mean bastard. Hughes had never come across a single person who had survived his cruelest Alchemic attack. Gran liked to transmute a man's guts in glass like shards, and let him stumble around until he sliced himself to peices from the inside.

"Tell us what happened," he said again.

Summer didn't look up as she recounted her tale. The Hughes' waited patiently for her to finish.

"How did you know where we lived?" Hughes asked after a thoughtful moment.

"You showed me a picture of your wife and daughter. Your house was in the background," Summer answered.

They all went silent as they heard a car drive past outside.

Summer climbed to her feet. "I shouldn't have come here. They'll come looking for me."

"You're in no condition to go anywhere!" Gracia declared. "I don't know what kind of weird Alchemy you have working for you, but you're bleeding and you're tired. You need to lie down at least."

"You'll get in trouble," Summer said, trying to edge around them towards the door.

"Nonsense!" Hughes declared, jumping forward.

Summer was too surprised to react. Hughes scooped her up off her feet. "It's late. We'll worry about this tomorrow. Gracia is the guest room made up?"

"Yes. It's still set up from when the Elrics were staying here."

"Great!"

"But-" Summer tried to object as she was carried through the house to the guest room.

"Don't worry," Hughes said. "I know it's hard to sleep in a strange place, so I have this for you!" He set her on one of the beds and fished a picture out of his pocket. "Elicia smiling with her first tooth. This one is a classic!" He put the picture in her hands. "Good night!"

He closed the door behind himself. Gracia was standing nervously in the hall.

"Maybe we should hide her in the attic," she said quietly. "If they search the house they'll find her right away."

"Don't worry!" he said. "If someone does come by, I'll give them the run around. They can't really force their way in unless they have a warrant or have a higher rank then me. And since this all seems unofficial I doubt anything like that will be involved. Why don't you get some sleep too? You've been up all day looking after Elicia. I'll see if I can save the carpet!"

"Maes…"

"Don't worry!" he said again.

She kissed him on the check and walked up the steps. He heard her walk into their daughter's room instead of the bed room though. He heard the creek of the rocking chair. The forced cheerfulness fell away from him. He went to the kitchen and filled a bucket with soapy water, and pulled a scrub brush from under the sink. He got down on his hands and knees and started scrubbing.

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Gracia Hughes woke to the sound of her daughter crying. She got up from the rocking chair and picked her up. She took her to the changing table and put her in a new diaper. She looked into the bed room but Maes wasn't there. She shushed her daughter and then walked carefully down the steps. She could hear someone still scrubbing the carpet. Orange light was leaking in the windows.

_Maes was cleaning the house all night. _

She stopped short when she got to the living room. Maes was asleep on the floor. The girl, Summer, was scrubbing the carpet now. She was still in her torn and blood stained hospital cloths, staring with grim determination at the stains. She looked up guiltily as Gracia entered the room.

"Almost clean," she whispered.

Gracia forced a smile. She knew her husband had the best intentions, but she worried that he was too trusting. Of all the guests he'd brought into their house, this girl had to be the strangest. As the girl leaned down to scrub a tough spot from the carpet, Gracia saw the tattoo on her back. She shuddered. That mark would bring something terrible into their lives. The girl looked up and noticed she was being watched.

"Let's find you something a little…better to wear," Gracia said.

They went through the closet and found a few things that almost fit with the cuffs and sleeves rolled up. Gracia threw the shredded and stained hospital gown in the fire place.

"I'm sorry," the girl said. "I'm causing trouble. I'll go when its dark."

"There's no need to run off," Gracia found herself insisting. "Let's get you some breakfast."

She was lighting the stove when the clock caught her attention. She rushed back to the living room.

"Maes wake up, dear. You'll be late for work," Gracia called.

"Hu…?" he asked groggily, sitting up. "Why am I on the floor?" he asked yawning.

"You fell asleep while cleaning," she said.

He looked around. "Did you get the rest of it?"

She shook her head. "Our house guest did."

"Wasn't that nice of her?" he asked.

She nodded. "Maes…I think something really bad is going to happen."

"I won't let it," he insisted.

"Maes, you can't help everyone."

"I plan to work on it one at a time and see how far I get. Come on. You love my optimism."

Upstairs Elicia started to cry.

"Oh," Hughes said. "I think someone jumped to the front of the line. Don't worry Elicia! Mommy and Daddy are coming!"

She crossed her arms and followed him up the stairs.

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He knelt in front of the alter, speaking softly as he dropped a match into the brazier. The air suddenly reeked of burned hair and Myrrh. The lights in the small temple dimmed and a shadowed figure materialized on the other side of the alter, looming over him.

"Announce yourself," it commanded.

"Rupert Giles watcher of the Slayer, Buffy Summers."

"You are worthy," it said before vanishing.

A light came into the room, glaring and blue. A man walked out of it. He wore Greek robes and sandals. He seemed to be made of gray and white marble.

"What do you want?" the man asked.

"I wish to know the fate of my charge."

"Your charge has a fate no longer."

"She is dead then?" Giles asked.

"No."

"Then where is she? Did they raise her?"

"Speak not of that sin."

"Where has she gone?" Giles demanded.

"She is beyond our control now," the man responded.

"What have you done with her? She served her calling. She gave her life for the good of this world!"

"She could not be allowed return here. She would upset the balance. We were lucky enough to find a way to avert the witch's attempts."

"Is Buffy alive?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

The marble man leaned across the alter and poked Giles in the forehead with his finger. For a moment the alter and the man vanished and he saw Buffy leaning over an old fashioned stove stirring a pot. A woman with short mousy hair, wearing a bathrobe, entered the room carrying a baby. A man in a blue uniform entered a moment later. He had a scruffy line of facial hair along his jaw, dark hair and glasses. He smiled at Buffy and she smiled back, holding up the pot proudly. The vision faded and the alter returned.

"She is in a world beyond our power and beyond theirs. She is where she will not upset the balance. She must never return."

"And those people?" the watcher asked as he pushed up his glasses.

"I would be blessed to call them family," the marble man said.

Giles nodded. It was all he could do. If that wasn't a ringing endorsement from the Powers That Be, he didn't know what was. But if Buffy was in a world where neither Good nor Evil were embodied in a higher power, then what was running the place? _And are they better off then us?_ he thought.

"It's possible," the marble man answered the unspoken question.

The light faded away. Giles collected the remains of his spell and walked back to his car. When he arrived at the Magic Shop they were waiting for him.

"She's safe," he said, "But she is not coming back."

"Why?" Dawn howled.

"Because she died," Giles said. "Life only goes in one direction."

There was a faint scratching. Everyone looked to Willow. She set down her pen and handed a note to Tara.

"She wants to know where Buffy was sent," Tara said.

"Beyond our reach," Giles said. "She was safe and with humans. The power I spoke with said they were good people."

Willow took up her pen and wrote again.

Tara read.

"It was worth it."

They all winced at the sound of shattering glass. Anya had slammed her fist through a display case.

"Xander is crippled! I don't care what you did to yourself but you had no right! No right!"

Xander leaned over out of his chair caught Anya's hand with his left. The right was missing, as well as his right leg from the knee down. Anya did not seem at all calmed. She grabbed a paper weight off of the counter and threw it at Willow. It sailed slowly across the room, but Willow made no attempt to dodge, and she made no sound when it struck. Her eye sockets were empty and her mouth held no tongue.

She reached out and tapped on the note she had written.

_It was worth it. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Competition**

Her shoes were polished so brightly they looked almost as if they were made of steel. From the machine gun like report her heels made as she walked through the halls, they just might have been. Otherwise she was dressed in the full women's uniform of the Armetris military, blue jacket and skirt with white trim. Her dark blond hair was pulled back in a bun.

"Can you please tell me where the typing pool is?" Summer asked at the front desk.

"Orders," the guard asked boredly.

"Oh, right," she said as she fished through her handbag.

She took out a stamped envelope and handed it over. It was a transfer approval from the Melthith office on the eastern boarder to Central. All the signatures looked right. Of course they did. Lt. Colonel Hughes had forged them perfectly for her.

"It's up stairs, second floor, third door on the right. You can hear the typewriters. Follow that sound if you get lost."

"Thanks!" she said smiling brightly.

She found the room easy enough and introduced herself as Private Summers to Corporal Sung, the frowning old lady who ran the military's notification office. Sung inspected her papers and then pointed her to an empty desk with a typewriter. A few minutes later she was handed a pile of sloppy hand written reports to type up. It was just that easy.

Her first day wasn't so bad. Summer got through every paper handed to her with a minimal use of correction fluid. On her fifteen-minute coffee/bathroom/ carpal tunnel break she introduced herself to a few of her coworkers and chatted a bit. Aside from Private Rickly from Dublith and Private Colem from New Senton all the other women in typing pool were from Central. From what she gathered most of the women were in their early twenties, and trying to find an officer to marry. Summer didn't really care. She was proud though. Not once did she mention a place that did not exist in Armetris, nor did she allow any of the strange images that bubbled to the top of her mind to over whelm her. She was among people, unsupervised, acting completely, normally, human.

The day ended. The sun was already gone, though it was only six o'clock. She walked down the stairs with the rest of the girls, turning down an offer to go for drinks, since she had yet to receive pay. She wandered aimlessly, until the number of people in blue uniforms had thinned out, and then ducked into an alley. She stuffed her uniform and shoes into her handbag, and scaled the nearest building. She heard people on the streets below complain about the cold weather. They said it would snow that night. She hoped it would. She remembered snow being rare, though obviously it wasn't. Besides, the dark shirt and shorts she'd worn beneath the uniform were enough to keep her warm while she ran across the roofs.

She circled the Hughes' house before dropping into their backyard, just to make sure they didn't have any other guests. She knew there would be trouble if she was traced back to their household, and it had been her idea to come only under cover of darkness or disguised. And even after all these months, she was still welcome. They kept a bed made up for her in the attic, though she only really needed sleep when she was injured. She crept up to the back porch and knocked on the door. Gracia opened it silently and she slipped in.

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Gracia resisted the urge to scold. She'd told Summer to take a change of clothes with her, but as usual she didn't listen. Now she was walking around the kitchen in clothes that were only suitable for the hottest days of July and bare dirty feet.

"Where is your uniform?" Gracia asked with a sigh.

Summer held up her handbag.

"You shouldn't waddle it like that! It will get all wrinkled," Gracia said, taking the bag and fishing out the uniform.

It was wrinkled, and the cosmetics she had put in Summer's bag had popped open and smeared all over it. She tossed it in the sink with a sigh turned on the tap. If they were lucky the make up would come out, and the uniform would be dry in the morning, and Summer wouldn't get fired on her second day of work and never move out.

"I'm sorry," Summer said, sounding horribly guilty.

"It's alright," Gracia said. "But you can't keep treating things like they're unbreakable. Maes worked very hard to put all this together for you."

Summer nodded. That girl went through a million personalities a day, little girl one moment, solider the next, and then sullen teenager right after. Fortunately spoiled brat didn't appear to be one of her phases. Gracia sighed and started scrubbing at the cloth. She loved that Maes was so generous, but she wished he could stop short of adopting every charity case he stumbled across, especially one who scared her so much. She had her own child to worry about. As if hearing her thoughts, Elicia toddled into the kitchen and held up her arms.

"Ur! Ur!" the little girl cried.

Summer looked at Gracia for permission, and then scooped Elicia up. The little girl laughed as Summer danced her around the kitchen. After a few dizzy minutes, Summer set her down and started doing kitchen work. She peeled potatoes and chopped vegetables with inhuman speed. Gracia hadn't asked her to, but Summer always butted in and took over the housework. It was nice to have somebody to help, but cooking was not one of Summer's talents.

Elicia wandered off and returned a few minutes later carrying Mr. Gordo, Summers' stuffed pig. The child had hundreds of toys of her own, but she always wanted to play with the one that wasn't hers.

"Summer why don't you keep Elicia busy while I finish this?" Gracia suggested, and successfully got her out of the way.

It was peaceful for almost half an hour before Summer froze and then cocked her head like a dog.

"Gracia! The Elrics are here!" Maes Hughes announced at the top of his lungs.

Gracia turned but Summer had already vanished. She hurried to the front door. In the corner of her eye she thought she saw a shadow darting up the stairs.

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**Thirty minutes Earlier…**

Ed leaned over the sink in the bathroom of the train station. He and Al had planned to catch the Western Main express, but like everything else in their whole lousy lives it hadn't worked out that way. The Western Main line had been sabotaged by anti-government militants, and wouldn't be running again until four am at the earliest. They'd be stuck in Central for another night instead of getting back on the road. Now he'd probably end up sleeping on a bench while Al watched their stuff. And to top it all off he'd just dropped his toothbrush on the floor of the men's room. He leaned into the little space, just barley able to reach it. He was pondering whether or not he should try to rinse it off or buy a new one when a shadow came over him.

"YO! Ed!" shouted a voice from so close that Ed nearly cracked his head on the mirror.

"Hey Hughes," Ed said with out much warmth.

"I saw Al standing outside. He said you were stuck in Central for the night. Weren't you going to stop by and say hello? I've got hundreds of pictures of Elicia that you haven't even seen yet, and Gracia is cooking her famous pot roast. You haven't eaten yet? Great!"

Before Ed could reply Hughes had his arm in one hand and his suitcase in the other and was dragging him off. Al saw his brother being dragged away and hurried after him. He didn't help Ed free himself from Hughes' grip, despite Ed's shrill demands. The entire way there, Hughes blathered on about Elicia's first steps and her first tooth, and then her second tooth, and her favorite color was orange now instead of blue like last week and she's so creative…

Ed was in a semi-conscience stupor by the time they made it to the Hughes' front door.

"Gracia! The Elrics are here!" Hughes bellowed.

Gracia smiled as she opened the door, but Ed noticed she looked a bit put out.

"Ed, Al, how nice to see you!" she declared sounding a bit strained.

"Hello Mrs. Hughes," Al said with a bow.

Ed managed to nod in her direction before Hughes dragged him in. Hues made good on his threat and soon Ed was buried in pictures of Elicia. Eventually Elicia herself made an appearance, carrying a beat up stuffed pig with her. She sat in Ed's lap for a while, poking at his automail. The toddler seemed completely enthralled by the artificial arm that was keeping her from falling onto the floor. Eventually Elicia got bored and climbed down. She passed Al and held up her arms toward the staircase.

"Ur! Ur!" Elicia called. "Ur! Ur! Ur!"

"Who's that?" Al asked.

"Who's who?" Hughes asked.

"Who's she calling for?" Al asked.

"Oh," Hughes said evasively. "That's her imaginary friend. So what have you two been up to?"

Ed sighed. "Not much. We had to go back to Southern because Mustang wanted us to hand deliver this package to the Silent Alchemist on the boarder-"

"And brother lost the package!" Al added.

"I didn't lose it! It was stolen!" Ed growled.

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Summer crawled across the beams, head tilted. She strained her ears for bits of the conversation taking place two floors below. She could hear the boy, Ed still talking. Hughes had mentioned him and his brother Al before. They were Alchemists and orphans apparently. She wondered if Hughes knew that Al wasn't human. She could hear the hollow suit of armor clanking around, offering to help Gracia set the table.

Ed was talking about some research project he'd been sent to inspect, something about alchemic applications of medicine. Whenever Ed stopped talking, Hughes pressed for more. Summer knew he was fishing on her behalf. Still, she had trouble stomping down the surge of jealousy that sprang up as Ed was given her place at the table.

She'd finished her first day of work. She had been terrified of going out among people without someone to tell her what to do and how to act. Maybe it wasn't such an accomplishment, but for her it was a major step, and she didn't have a lot of people to share her victory with. Frowning she crawled back over to her bed and pulled out her notebook, flipping through to a random page. She grabbed up a pencil.

She added more shadows under the eyes, and continued frowning. Drawing was not one of her talents. She though she had the hair right at least, blond and curled a bit. She'd labeled the picture Mom. Under it she had carefully printed out things she remembered this woman saying, only a few lines and none of them particularly meaningful.

"Waffles only don't have calories if I cook them for both of us," she read back to herself.

She turned the page. This drawing was even worse then the last. It was a young man. She'd labeled him Xander. She couldn't come up with words from him, only nervous laughter. She flipped through the other people to the back. The back was where she put the monsters. She slammed the notebook closed as she heard Hughes coming up the stairs.

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Maes Hughes was beginning to wonder if this wasn't such a good idea. It seemed incredible good luck to run into the Fullmetal Alchemist in Central. He'd invited Ed over with the intention of introducing him to Summer, and seeing if they couldn't figure out what had been done to her. Ed was probably one of greatest talents in alchemy in the entire country, and on top of that he was one of the few people who Hughes could trust to keep his mouth shut. Ed had more then his fair share of things to hide from the government they both worked for. Thing just didn't seem to be working out though.

Summer had fled up into the attic and hadn't responded to his or Gracia's calls to come down. He knew she could hear him. Most of her senses seemed to be ten times better then an ordinary humans'. If she didn't spend so much time lost in her own head, she'd probably be an unstoppable soldier. That was probably the intention of the people who did this to her.

He'd made a rather lame excuse about going upstairs to close a window and hurried up to the attic to see if he couldn't convince Summer to come down. He pulled down the latter and climbed up. The attic was pitch black, but that didn't mean it was unoccupied. Summer rarely used the lamp they'd put up there for her. She could see as well in the dark as she could in daylight.

"Dinner is ready," Hughes said.

There was no answer. He stumbled around for a moment until his flailing hands found the light. He blinked for a moment, and then peered about. He saw Summer's bed, but there was no sign of her. That didn't mean much though. She could practically turn invisible in a room this cluttered.

"Come meet Ed and Al," Hughes said. "They might be able to figure out what happened to you."

There was no answer.

"They're very nice. They don't bite, I promise."

Silence answered back.

"They won't turn you in, Summer. I trust them as much as I do you."

He sighed. "We'll save you something," he said as he climbed back down the latter.

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"What do you think is really going on here?" asked Ed as he tried in vain to fluff up the pillow he'd been given.

He wondered what happened to the one he'd been given the last time he stayed at the Hughes' home. When he'd tried to go back to the train station after dinner, the Lt. Colonel had practically barred the door. Normally he'd be very happy to have a bed to sleep on instead of a bench, but something in the house was off.

Al shrugged. "Mr. Hughes was acting a lot more interested in Alchemy then usual."

"I think someone else was staying here," Ed said. "Did you see the woman's uniform in the kitchen?"

"And Elicia was looking for someone," Al said.

"You don't think Hughes has a mistress do you?" Ed asked.

"Big Brother! That's a horrible thing to say!" Al said.

Ed shrugged. "Well its not any of our business if he is," Ed said.

"It seemed like he wanted to say something to us," Al ventured.

"Maybe he wanted to tell us that he got a second wife," Ed said.

Ed didn't believe what he was saying. Hughes was way too obsessed with Gracia to even look at another woman, but the reaction he was getting from Al was too good. He continued teasing his younger but much larger brother until Al swung a pillow at him so hard it bounced Ed's head against the wall. Grumbling, Ed turned out the lights and tried to sleep. The bed was unusually lumpy. After twenty minutes of tossing and turning, he found a stuffed pig crammed under the mattress pad. He supposed Elicia had put it there. He'd seen her walking around with the pig earlier. He closed his eyes and drifted off, the stuffed animal still in his automail fist.

He wasn't sure how long he slept or what woke him, but suddenly his eyes flew open, and he was certain something was wrong.

Ed looked over. The door was open a crack and it hadn't been when he'd gone to bed. He froze. Something large was moving along the wall. The room was so dark he couldn't tell exactly how big it was. He looked over at Al but he was just lying on his back staring at the ceiling. He did that for hours while Ed and the rest of the world slept. Ed wanted to get his brother's attention, but he couldn't think of any way to do it that wouldn't be equally noticeable to the whatever-it-was. He slid his hands across his chest under the blankets, holding them an inch apart, ready to transmute his arm into a blade. A hand reached up by his pillow. He held his breath. The hand felt along the bedding, never touching him but getting uncomfortably close. Finally it came upon the stuffed pig, and stopped. Quick as a blink the pig was snatched off the bed and shadow sped back to the door in complete silence. The only thing his straining ears could pick up was a faint tap as the bolt settled again.

Next time he'd definitely settle for the bench.

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Summer sat on the roof holding the stuffed pig under her chin. She knew she was being childish. She had her head together enough to figure that out. What was the point of acting mature? What was the point of getting a job? What was the point of any of it?

Off in the distance she heard a scream. She turned her head. It was far away, and unfamiliar, but her legs tensed, as if they were going to get up of their own accord.

_It's not my problem_, she told herself. But it didn't feel that way. It felt like everything that happened after the sun went down was her problem. She knew bad things happened after dark. Hughes had asked her to stay inside, or at least stay out of the bad neighborhoods. Those were the places she most felt she should go.

She never told Hughes about what she was looking for. Creatures with yellow eyes and fangs. Creatures with warped faces, who drank blood and feared the sun. There were others too. Creatures with green skin and claws. Mouths that sprang out of the earth. Things that crawled out of eggs and latched onto your back. She didn't tell him because she didn't want him to think she was crazy…crazier. She'd searched for those nightmares and hadn't found a single one. Only humans preying on other humans.

_Humans are none of my business. _

But why aren't they? What else is there? Things like me? She wondered, looking at her hands.

She wondered again if she had ever been human, if the images floating in her mind were in any way real. She remembered houses and streets, stores and cars. But everything she remembered was off. There was no such thing as a credit card or a computer. There were no flying machines. There was no mall. The dead didn't rise and there were no vampires.

A memory floated to the front of her mind. A girl, skin covered in clay, face smeared in dark paint, a girl who had once told her that death was her gift. Summer tossed the pig back inside the house and leapt to the next roof. Her feet took her to the nearest slum, by the river. She hopped down the bank and looked into the water. She knew the girl in her mind was not her. But she had a strange feeling that they used to be the same person, a person called Slayer. She scooped up a hand full of clay and smeared it across her face.

Another scream split the air, and she sprinted towards it on silent feet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Day Job**

**Four Months Later….**

Summer stumbled a bit as she pulled on her shoe. She stopped in front of a window to check her reflection. The clay was gone, her hair was in order, and the pesky little bullet graze was almost completely healed. She pulled a lock of hair out of her bun and let it fall over the red mark. She checked her watch. Eight minutes until roll call in the typing pool. A short cut was in order.

She scrambled up the side of the nearest building and sprinted across the roof. She leapt from one building to the next, listening for people in the streets. It wasn't dawn yet, but most people were already up, trying to find work or heating oil or food. Winter was smothering the city with darkness and cold. She saw the lights of the Central office but stopped on a building across the street, just outside their reach. Normally she would have leapt down to the street and walked up the steps, nonchalant with time to spare. Unfortunately the roof of Central was occupied, and questions would be raised if she was seen dropping off a five-story building and then strolling to work.

She could see a woman standing on the roof of the royal offices two hundred yards away. Summer would have bet a month's pay and her best pair of shoes that the woman could see her right back. The woman wasn't in uniform. She wasn't in much at all really, an off the shoulder, skin tight green dress and matching opera gloves. Dark wavy hair fell around the woman's face, and blew across her chest. Summer though she could see a purple mark in the center of the woman's chest, but her stupid dramatic hair was in the way. Summer backed up across her roof, and the woman's head turned to follow her. Summer got to edge of her building and climbed down the fire escape, wondering what she had seen, and how much she'd given away. The woman might have just been some one's call girl, but her unusually long fingers gave Summer a sinking feeling.

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Edward Elric was having another crappy day. It was all he could do to keep from muttering curses under his breath, but because of the current company he was keeping, he held his temper in check. He'd come into Central Headquarters to send a report to his commanding officer, Colonel Mustang through the military's secure mail service. Somehow, between the front entrance and the mailroom, the leader of their country had managed to stumble across him. He'd been dragged into an empty office and was now trying to figure out if he had been bowing long enough.

"How have you been, my dear Fullmetal Alchemist?" asked Fuhrer President King Bradley.

"Fine sir. How are you?" Ed managed to mumble.

"Oh I'm doing all right," the Fuhrer said, chuckling. "A rebellion here, a boarder skirmish there, you know how it is."

The Fuhrer stopped talking and just watched Ed with a slightly maniac grin. The Fuhrer only had one eye but seemed to stare with extra intensity to make up for the one covered by a patch.

"Is there something I can do for you sir?" Ed finally brought himself to ask.

"Why yes there is!" the Fuhrer said cheerfully. "Some strange things have been going on in Central."

Ed had a sinking feeling. He hadn't been to Central in almost four months. Whatever it was couldn't possible be his fault.

"I've been getting some rather strange reports from the civilian police force as well from my own security officers," The Fuhrer began. "Apparently there is some sort of vigilante or perhaps a group of vigilantes working out of the refugee camps to the west of the city. The crime rate in that area has been decreasing steadily for the past few months, which of course is good, but last night a group of soldiers was attacked while patrolling that area. No one was seriously injured but they seem convinced that alchemy was used on them. I'd like you to find out what really happened, search the city, ask questions, you know. If the vigilantes attacked the military we will have to do something about them."

Ed's jaw worked. He'd been in Central often, but he wasn't a native. He still needed to check the map in his suitcase every so often to find his way around. And searching for a vigilante group wasn't exactly a short-term assignment either. It would probably take a week and the lead he had on a researcher in North Belfore was getting colder by the minute. Still, it wasn't as if he could just say "no" to the leader of his country.

"Is there a file or something I could start with sir?" Ed asked, feeling rather doomed.

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Corporal Sung glared at her from the front of the room. Summer fought the urge to glare back. She didn't know why the older woman was always on her case. Summer turned in twice as much work at the end of the day as any one else in the office. It wasn't her fault the damn typewriters were always falling apart.

_It's like she's just waiting for me to break something._

SNAP! PING!

"Crap!" Summer muttered.

"Not again," her sometime friend Private Kerry Mills said. "Sung said you'd be transferred to the mail room if you broke another one."

"Like I've forgotten," Summer hissed.

She lifted up the edge of the typewriter, and the broken key rolled out of under the machine. She picked it up and looked to her pile of reports.

_I'm sure I can finish those without the E_.

"Problem, Summers?" Sung asked.

"No ma'am," Summer said, getting up.

"You broke another one?" Sung asked dully.

"No! No ma'am…I…it just…uh…" Summer looked around and scooped up the bulky iron machine. "It's just…uh…over heating…" She backed towards the door. "So I'm going to take it…outside for a second." She felt the doorknob against her back, and reached for it. "So it can cool down…in the cool air…of outside." The door slammed behind her.

She hurried down the hall, looking into offices. If she found one with a typewriter she could switch it with hers, and go back to the office only slightly crazy looking, and not fired looking. As she was reaching for the knob of the last door in their section, she heard the clang of hollow metal boots on the tiles.

"It's not that bad big brother," a young voice said.

"This will take weeks, Al!" a slightly older boy replied.

She supposed this was as good a chance as any to see if Hughes favorite alchemists were as nice as he made them out to be.

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Ed was so busy grumbling that he almost didn't notice the grinning woman until he ran into her. She wasn't that much taller then he was, and when he looked down he realized most of the difference in height could be attributed to her shoes. He couldn't place her but she seemed to know him.

"Hi!" she said. "You're the Fullmetal Alchemist, right?"

"Yes," Ed growled. "What's it to you?"

"I was wondering if you could help me," she said.

Ed noticed the typewriter in her arms.

"It's broken," she said.

"So what?" Ed said.

"So can you fix it for me?" she asked.

"Why should I? What's in it for me?" Ed asked.

"A heart felt thanks?" she said.

"Take it to a repair shop," Ed said.

"You're an alchemist. You can fix it in like two seconds."

"It's not my problem," Ed said.

She looked at him for a moment, and then her eyes tracked up over his head. She stepped past him as if he had ceased to exist.

"Hi!" she said to Al.

"Hi," Al replied nervously.

"You're an alchemist too right?" she asked.

"Yes," Al said.

"You're a nice alchemist right?" she added in a stage whisper.

"Uh…ha ha…" Al trailed off nervously.

Ed wasn't sure if it was because of the woman's smiling or his own annoyed glare.

"Can you help me out?" she asked Al.

"Sure!" Al said.

He pulled a piece of chalk out of his belt and scribbled out a transmutation circle on the floor. He took the typewriter and the broken key from her and placed them in the circle, and then pressed his hands to the edge of it. The machine glowed with blue light, and the key fused back into place, as if it had never broken. Al handed the typewriter back to her and knelt to sweep the circle off the floor.

"Thanks so much!" she declared.

She leaned over and gave the kneeling suit of armor a kiss on the cheek. Al giggled nervously as the woman hurried away on clacking high heels.

"Who was that?" Al asked.

"Her uniform said Summers on the patch," Ed said. "You can propose later. We've got work to do."

"You don't have to be so mean," Al said.

Ed just glared.

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Two hours and eight large boxes of files later, Ed's mood had not improved.

"I don't know why you won't let me ask Lt. Colonel Hughes for help," Al said.

"Because if we ask him, he'll make us look at pictures of Elicia and he won't shut up and we won't get anything done. I don't want to end up at their house all night," Ed said.

"Do you still think the Hughes' house is haunted?" Al teased.

"There was something there," Ed insisted.

"I would have heard someone come in," Al said. "You were having a nightmare."

"I wasn't!" Ed insisted. "Just shut up and work."

Ed opened box number nine, and pulled out one of the broken guns from 'the incident'. Ed turned the barrel over.

"This looks like it was twisted with someone's bare hand's," Ed said.

Al nodded. Al took the barrel and tried to bend it back into shape. It moved slightly, but only with all his effort put into it.

"The metal hasn't been weakened with alchemy," Al said. "We must be looking for a giant."

"I don't think so," Ed said, putting his hand over the marked metal. His fingers fit into the grooves. The person who made them couldn't have been much larger then he was. Or they had freakishly small hands for their size.

Ed went back to the 'sightings' file. The reports were mostly of a mysterious figure leaping from roof to roof around the outskirts of Central. There were a few that accredited the mysterious figure with breaking up muggings and catching thieves. The majority of the witnesses believe that the figure was female and those that claimed to have seen her up close said she wore a mask or had some sort of facial deformity. Ed looked from those reports to the accounts of the soldiers from the incident.

"Arg! This isn't helping!" Ed declared.

"What do you mean?" Al asked.

"The stories and the sightings and everything!" Ed said. "This soldier can't even decide what gender the attacker was. '**She** picked up Private Sharpe and slammed his head into the wall. **He** then jumped straight up onto the roof of a building.' None of them mentioned the mask. I don't even know if these files have any thing to do with these other files!"

"Maybe it was a low roof," Al suggested.

"I think we need to see where this happened," Ed said.

"Or you're bored and you want to go out side," Al said.

"Let's just go."

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Summer saw the Elrics walking down the steps. She didn't know why Hughes thought so much of the Fullmetal Alchemist. He seemed like a sullen brat to her. But maybe Al was nice enough for both of them, even if he was hollow. She wanted to ask Hughes about Al, but she never had the nerve.

She tapped her stack of papers on the windowsill and continued toward the file room. She listened to her shoes as she walked. It was like she had her own drum roll everywhere she went.

CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!

She was almost to the file room when some one decided to piss on her parade.

"Those shoes are completely inappropriate!" announced the giant Major, known as Armstrong.

He'd been transferred back to Central a few days ago, though according to the office rumor mill, he'd been helping to put down a rebellion on the southern boarder. He intimidated most people in Central, since he was seven feet tall and three times as wide as a normal person. He was an Alchemist, which made Summer nervous. He was also a narcissist and an expositionist, which made Summer annoyed.

"I read the uniform requirements," she said pointing the toe of her shoe at him. "They're navy blue. They're allowed."

"This is not a fashion show! Three inch heals have no place in the military! Besides they are bad for your tendons! Don't you want a healthy body like mine?"

The shirt was off. He started flexing. Summer sighed in a very unimpressed sort of way.

"And is constantly dropping your top more in tune with the spirit of the military?" she asked.

"I did not 'drop my top'," Armstrong objected.

"It's on the ground isn't it?"

His whole body sort of sagged in defeat. "Those shoes are still unacceptable."

"How about this?" Summer said. "We'll lay it on the line. If you win, you'll never see me in anything but boring black flats. If I win, you can't take your shirt off and flex in my presents."

"What kind of contest do you have in mind?" Armstrong asked suspiciously. "Be warned that I am unbeatable in numerous games of skill and stamina, the secrets of which have been passed down through the Armstrong family for generations!"

"So you think you'll win at darts or horseshoes, things like that?"

"There is no question!"

Summer sighed. "Fine. I guess we'll have to arm wrestle for it."

Several passing guards paused to gasp.

"You're joking," Armstrong said.

"Nope. Court yard, lunch break, be there," she said.

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He was trying. He was trying very hard. Maes Hughes took a calming breath and then knocked on the door. Corporal Sung opened it for him.

"Sir," she said.

"I need to borrow Private Summers for a minute," he said.

The typing pool erupted in whispers as Summer got up from her seat and click-clacked her way out the door. As soon as Sung closed the door, Hughes was hissing.

"What were you thinking?" Hughes demanded.

"About what?" Summer asked, playing dumb.

"About Armstrong!"

"Other then that he needs to come down a notch or too, not that awful much," she replied.

"Summer this is a bad idea!" Hughes insisted.

"Someone has got to stand up to him," she replied. "He's a huge shirtless dictator."

"He's not a bad guy. In fact he's a friend of mine. He's just a bit odd," Hughes said.

"I promise not to tear his arm off," Summer said.

"Summer, if you win, people will know you're not normal!" Hughes said. "You can't risk it all on a pair of shoes!"

"Relax Hughes!" she said. "I'm going to win through strategy."

"Strategy?" he asked, obviously bewildered.

Summer nodded.

Hughes pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to have a migraine.

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The crowd in the courtyard was larger then she expected. There was a rumor going around that the Fuhrer would be watching from one of the second story windows. A few enterprising soldiers were selling popcorn, since many of their companions had given up their lunches to be present for the spectacle.

"He'll tear her arm off!"

"She's got to have an angle."

"Captain Marks is taking bets."

"Maybe they'll both wrestle without their shirts."

"You're such a pervert."

Summer ignored all comments as she walked to the table, her shoes polished to glaring intensity. Armstrong was already in the yard stretching, without a shirt of course. She seated herself at the table, and calmly started cracking her knuckles. Armstrong winced.

"Are we going to do this or are you going to stretch all day?" Summer called.

"Hmf," Armstrong replied.

He sat down on the other side of the table.

"All right," shouted Sergeant Gimmes, who had declared himself referee, "Everybody knows the rules. Elbows stay on the table! No kicking! No Alchemy! First hand to touch the table looses! Counting down!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

"Go!"

Summer applied her strategy.

Armstrong recoiled in horror.

THUMP!

Pink sparkles fell out of the air.

The crowd was silent for a moment, and then applause broke out.

Summer stood up and took a bow.

"The ability to roll the eyelids inside out has been passed down the Summer's line for generations!" she announced triumphantly.

"That was completely immature," Armstrong said.

"And yet effective," Summer said.

Armstrong frowned, and grudgingly put his shirt back on.

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Ed looked around the alley. There didn't seem to be anything significant about it, and he wondered briefly if the reports had gotten the location wrong. The soldiers report said they had been confronting thieves in the alley when they were attacked, but there didn't seem to be anything worth stealing, just garbage bins filled with stale moldy bread.

"Are you done looking yet brother?" Al asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," Ed said.

"Good, because this lady wants to talk to you," Al said.

Ed looked over, and saw Al was talking to some dirty old bag lady. The woman couldn't have had more then ten teeth.

"That's him?" she asked. "He's so short."

Al caught Ed's collar before he could charge.

"She knows people who saw the fight with the soldiers," Al supplied.

Ed looked at the woman. She glared back.

"You work for the military?" she asked.

Ed nodded. "I'm a State Alchemist."

"Are you trying to find out what happened or are you trying to find somebody to execute?" she demanded, leaning towards him.

He didn't know it was possible to have breath that bad. "We're just supposed to find out what's going on," Ed said.

"You want to know? Fine. You come to the western camp tonight, after dark. You'll find out."

"What?" Ed asked.

"The Demon is in the camps almost every night. Everybody knows that."

"The Demon?" Ed asked.

"The Demon fought the soldiers. She fights everyone who does us harm. She's our avenger."

"Right," Ed said.

The old woman snorted. "I told you. That's all I've got to do. That's all. You want to know, you come."

She wandered off down the street, mumbling.

"Let's go," Ed grumbled.

The Central offices were surprisingly empty when they returned. They walked up the steps and through the courtyard. The ground was covered in a thin layer of pink sparkles.

"I have a feeling we missed something really interesting," Ed said.

"You should probably take a nap," Al said.

"Why?" Ed asked.

"Aren't we going to the camps tonight?" Al asked.

"Because some crazy old lady told us too?"

"She didn't seem crazy to me," Al said.

"Al, she was messing with you."

"Its better then going though files," Al pointed out.

"Fine," Ed said. "We'll go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Hey confused people! This story starts out in the Fullmetal Anime around episode eight, (so that's post Nina pre Scar). Thank you for reviewing, feel free to do it again.

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Night Life**

Summer stopped halfway through her yawn as the clay cracked. She had taken a bullet just after she started her patrol and she wasn't feeling quite herself yet. She wondered if she should turn in early, but as another scream rang through the night, she pushed the thought aside. She leaped from the roof and hit the ground running. The wall around the city came into view and she jumped, easily clearing twenty-five feet of bricks.

Half an hour later, Summer was bored again. She sat on the roof of a shack by the dump. She'd taken down three gangs, a murderer, and four pimps. They weren't challenging fights, but no matter how many she took down, the next night there would be more of them. It was like trying to take out all the world's cockroaches with a hammer.

"Pssst! Hey! Demon!" called a voice from the ground.

Summer leaned over the edge and saw Marci, her favorite bag lady.

"Demon, the State Alchemists are looking for you," the old woman called, her words hissing slightly as they slipped around her few remaining teeth.

"I know that," Summer said.

"They've sent the tiny one, and the armored one after you," Marci said. "They'll be here tonight if you want to get rid of them."

"Are you talking about the little blond boy, looks about ten, yells a lot?" Summer asked.

The old woman nodded.

"I haven't got anything against him, and the armored one isn't dangerous. They aren't going to give me more trouble than I can handle."

"They work for the State," the old woman said.

Summer nearly said "so do I," but held back. "I have a reliable source that tells me they aren't so bad. They might even side with you."

"I won't believe it till I see it," the old woman declared. "I could probably take out the little one with a pipe to the back of the head."

"That is like really not necessary Marci, but thanks," Summer said.

The old woman had been offering to assassinate people for her ever since Summer had scared away a gang of kids who had tried to steal her basket of moldy possessions. Summer didn't think the old lady really had it in her to off somebody, but the offer was touching.

"Tell ya' what Marci," Summer said. "If you think they're up to something, send them to my usual hangout."

The old woman nodded shrewdly. Summer heard another scream, and with a sigh went back to work.

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"You sure about this, kid?" the soldier asked.

Ed nodded. "I'm a State Alchemist. I can handle myself."

"Whatever, kid. Just don't complain to me if you end up dead. Don't get too far away from your bodyguard," he finished, waving at Al.

"He's not my bodyguard!" Ed said indignantly. "He's my little brother!"

The soldier pointed through the guarded checkpoint. Ed glared and marched through. Al said "thank you" politely.

The camps were made up of refugees from the borders of Amestris. There was always fighting along the borders and Ed guessed some people thought they'd have better luck making a life in Central. The problem was there weren't that many jobs to be had, much less housing. The camp was a collection of shacks, miserable people, and pit toilets. Al nervously fiddled with the straps on his chest plate as they walked among a sea of hostile faces.

After half an hour of fruitless wandering Ed was ready to go back to Central Headquarters. He'd seen roving gangs of young men, piles of burning trash, at least a million rats, and no demons. He was about to insist they leave when Al took off running. Ed growled and took off after him. A woman screamed and Ed saw where his brother was going (much faster than Ed was). A group of men with pry bars, pipes, and bats had kicked in the wall of one of the shacks and were dragging people out. Ed clapped his hands, preparing to transmute his arm into a blade. Before he could press his hand to his automail, a shadowy figure dropped in among the men. The gang members went flying. Al, who had gotten closer, caught one out of the air. The man was already unconscious. The rest of the group was on the ground by the time Ed caught up. The figure was gone.

The people who had been attacked were collecting themselves. An old lady was picking through broken wood. A teenager was helping a man on crutches back to his feet. A young woman was kicking one of the unconscious gang members below the belt. A middle-aged woman with a bloody nose backed away holding up her hands defensively as she took in Al's armor.

"Can we help?" Al offered.

"We don't want trouble," the woman with the bloody nose said.

"Mom!" called a young voice from inside the collapsing shack.

All eyes were drawn towards a laundry basket that was moving itself. A second later, a little girl popped out.

"Jenny!" the woman hissed. "When I tell you to hide, you stay hid!"

"Mom!" the girl shouted. "That's the Fullmetal Alchemist! Can you fix our house?" the girl asked Al.

"Oh sure, I'll help," Al said. "But I'm not the Fullmetal Alchemist," he corrected quietly. Al pointed at Ed. "He is."

If Al were capable of sighing in relief, he would have. Apparently Ed was so busy studying the unconscious gang's injuries that he hadn't heard his title misapplied. Al took out his chalk and went to work on the broken wall. When Ed saw what his brother was doing he walked over. In a few minutes, not only was the shack repaired, it now had earthen walls half a foot thick, a heavy door with a lock, and a mailbox with kittens embossed on the side. Al kept his brother working by coming close to upstaging him. Al was rather proud of his manipulations. He didn't have to plead with Ed even once. Ed also transmuted chains to tie up the gang members, who were by that time coming around.

"That person who beat up the gang, was that the Demon?" Al asked.

The girl Jenny, who seemed to think Al was the greatest thing in the universe since toothbrushes, nodded. "She's never been to our house before. Of course, bad people never attacked our house before, except that one time when Dad chased them away with a pipe, and that other time when we threw bricks."

"So the Demon hangs around here a lot?" Ed asked.

"Yeah," Jenny said. "We didn't give her any scraps, though, so she might not come back!" the girl concluded, rather panicked.

Ed was rather confused by the statement, but didn't press.

"Do you know where the Demon stays when she's not fighting with bad people?" Al asked.

"No, she doesn't!" the mother said. "Nobody does. Thank you for helping with the house, but you better go."

The rest of the family was busy giving them hostile glares by that time. Ed just rolled his eyes and started walking away. Al bowed politely and started off after his brother. A few steps later he stopped and called back.

"Do any of you know where an old lady lives? She's about this tall and…." Al trailed off, unable to find anyway to describe the woman that wasn't overtly insulting.

"She has ten teeth, she smells very bad and she talks to herself," Ed said, coming to the rescue.

"That could be a lot of people," the mother said. "Most of the old ones are by the dump. It's that way," she said, pointing.

"Thank you!" Al said, bowing again.

It was another hour of wandering before Al finally found the woman they were looking for. She was picking through a pile of rotten vegetables.

"Hello," Al said.

"You finally got here, hu? Took your time," the woman said.

"You weren't very specific," Ed growled.

"Come on," the woman said, leading them into another warren of shacks. "Did you see her yet?"

"Someone broke up an attack on a family on the east side of the camp. Whoever it was took out six thugs in less than six seconds," Ed said.

"Why do you say whoever?" the woman grumbled. "I told you who it was. I did my job."

"We don't exactly have proof of that," Ed said.

"Big brother, don't pick fights," Al chided.

"They're in here," she said, leading them into a shack at the back of the warren.

Two teenage girls were huddled in the corner of the single small room. Both sported bruised faces and split lips. Their hair was dark and their skin tanned. Ed guessed they came from the southern area of Amestris.

"This is Gell," she said, pointing to the one on the right, "And Lee," she said, pointing to the other.

The girls looked at Al in terror. He waved in what he hoped was a friendly manner.

"Tell him about the soldiers," the old woman said, pointing to Ed.

They exchanged confused glances, and then the one on the right started talking.

"We weren't stealing," Gell said. "They throw out the stale bread at the end of the day. It's not so bad, especially if you're just going to dip it in your soup or something anyway. We were going through the trashcans when the soldiers came into the alley. They pointed guns at us. We tried to explain. They just started hitting us. They tore my dress. I started screaming…and she was there."

"Who?" Ed asked.

"The Demon of scraps."

"The what?" Ed asked.

"The Demon. She's made out of bits of cloth, except for her face; that's made of clay. She was murdered by soldiers a hundred years ago, but her ghost made itself a new body out of bits of other people's lives. She walks through the city at night attacking the people who destroy, and if she helps you out you have to give her a piece of your clothes so she can keep herself together. After she chased the soldiers off, I gave her a piece of my sleeve. Lee gave her a piece from the hem of her skirt. She sewed them into herself right then and there."

"That's…some story," Ed said.

She seemed completely serious. He couldn't tell if it was a joke or not. He left the shack and Al and the old lady followed him.

"Are you going to turn them in?" the old woman asked.

"I was sent to find vigilantes, not girls," Ed said. "Do you know where we can find the masked woman?"

"You think you can find the Demon if she doesn't want you to?" the old woman asked.

"Do you know where she is?" Ed asked again.

The old woman nodded, and gave them directions to a graveyard.

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Al was rather convinced that his elder brother was going crazy. The entire walk from the camp to the graveyard Ed insisted they were being followed. Al obediently looked every time his brother called attention to a shadow or a rooftop, but he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Once Ed even declared that someone had tapped him on the shoulder. Al told him he should have taken a nap in the afternoon, instead of having coffee before they left the base. Ed responded rather rudely. Neither of them noticed their grinning shadow, who muttered under her breath about a typewriter.

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It wasn't a military graveyard. If asked, Ed would have said no one was in charge of it. Many of the markers had been tipped over, and the yard hadn't been weeded or mowed in recent memory. Ed was careful not to step on any of the plots. The dead had enough reason to be mad at him. Ed looked over the yard. He wouldn't have noticed her if she hadn't turned to look at him.

The woman was crouching on top of a tall headstone about fifteen feet away. She was covered in heavily patched clothes from head to toe. Only her face was visible and that was covered with a thick, cracking layer of clay. The area around her eyes was darker, as if ash had been smeared over the clay. Ed's eyes were drawn to an orange square of fabric sewn into the front of the woman's clothes. It was the same color and pattern as the girl Gell's shirt. Al eventually noticed what his brother was looking at.

"Hello," Al said in his annoyingly friendly voice.

The woman smiled and bits of clay cracked and fell from her face. She had bright white teeth that made Ed nervous.

"Hello," the woman said back.

"What are you doing here?" Ed demanded.

"I'm looking for my name," she said, still smiling her eerie white smile.

"What is it?" Ed asked.

"If I knew that, it would be much easier to find," she said, waving her arm out over the graveyard. "But maybe one of them will wake up and tell me. There are places where the dead crawl right back out of the ground. I don't know if this is one of them. I listen. Maybe I hear them, digging towards the surface. Maybe they're listening, too, waiting for something with a beating heart to pass over them."

Her arm darted upward, miming catching an unsuspecting ankle from below. Al started to rattle with terror.

"Or maybe I'm just messing with you," she continued in a completely different tone.

It was a familiar voice, but he couldn't place it. Ed scowled.

"What brings you to my haunt, gentlemen?" she asked.

"We're investigating an attack on some soldiers, over by the refugee camp, a few days ago."

"You'll have to be more specific," she said. "Was this the soldiers demanding bribes for work permits? Or the soldiers accepting bribes from the mobsters selling drugs? Or the soldiers beating up girls in an alley while they scrounged for food? Or the soldiers taking pot shots at cats by the dump?"

"They were shooting at cats?" Al asked, sounding horrified.

"The girls in the alley," Ed interrupted. "What happened with the girls in the alley?"

"They were getting bread out of the trash cans behind Gorman's Bakery. I used to go by there a lot. You wouldn't believe how much good stuff they throw away. There's even raisin bread in there sometimes-"

"Getting to the point?" Ed said.

"I was…in the neighborhood. I heard the soldiers getting mean. I taught them some manners."

"They said you used alchemy to disappear and break their guns," Ed said.

She snorted. In the next instant, her face was a few inches from Ed's own. He hadn't really noticed her moving until she was there. He swallowed a little nervously. She was only a few inches taller than he was, but somehow she managed to loom.

"You're…pretty fast," he said.

"Not really," she said smiling. "Some people are just a little slow."

She settled back into the strange crouched position she'd been in earlier. Ed felt awkward standing over her so he squatted down as well. He really wanted to back away from her, but pride wouldn't let him. He couldn't think of any alchemy that made a person move faster, and she definitely hadn't used a transmutation circle. He wanted to ask her how she bent the gun barrels, but the words stuck in his throat.

"So are you planning to overthrow the government or something?" Ed demanded, adding extra attitude to cover his nervousness.

She snorted. "What would I do that for?"

"Everyone else seems to be trying it," Al pointed out.

She grinned. "I just remind people that there's always a bigger fish somewhere in the pond. Keeps them humble."

Ed watched her. She didn't seem to be anything other than a fast human in funny clothes.

"So what's with the patches?" Ed asked.

"Awhile ago I came across a guy slapping around his girlfriend. I tried to talk some sense into him. He grabbed the front of my shirt and ripped the damn thing open. Anyway, after he was dealt with, the girl gives me her scarf, which was kind of ripped up, too, at that point. I'm not the best seamstress ever. I managed to sort of patch my shirt up with the scarf and some pins. A couple of days later, when I was breaking up a mugging, the couple I helped out gave me a cloth handkerchief to fix up another tear." She paused, pointing out the monogrammed white patch on her right knee. "Since then, people have just been handing me bits of this and that. I don't ask them for stuff, they just toss it at me. Not that I'm complaining. It's kind of nice to have a 'thank you' every once in a while."

"So you just wander around Central fighting crime, for no reason?" Ed asked skeptically.

"I suppose I could take up knitting, instead. This is more fun, though," she said. "Probably more productive, too. Central isn't exactly the safest city in the world."

Ed flashed back to his run-in with Barry the Chopper, the famous Central serial killer. It would have been nice to have some crazy, masked crime-fighting vigilante around, then, before he had a meat cleaver shoved through his shoulder. Ed tore off a bit of his sleeve and held it out to her. She tilted her head a bit, and then accepted the bright red scrap.

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Ed stood in the office, trying not to stumble over his words. He had turned in a written report, but somehow the Fuhrer had known he was there. So here he was in front of the leader of his country again, twice in two days.

"-so she's pretty much just a crazy girl who fights crime. She offered to come in and testify at the soldiers' trial, but that probably won't be happening. Right, sir?"

The Fuhrer watched him impassively.

"No, it won't, Fullmetal. We can't let crazed lunatics run around dispensing street justice, but we must keep our soldiers in line, as well. I think we'll call this one a draw."

"Should I bring her in, Sir?" Ed asked.

"No, I'll have my own people deal with her, if there are any future incidents. I've kept you from your research long enough. Dismissed, Fullmetal, and good luck."

Ed bowed and left.

"Ms. Douglas," the Fuhrer called.

From the next room came the sound of rushing water. The door opened. A thin woman with a bowed head walked slowly into the room. Her hair hung in her face. She stopped a few feet from the Fuhrer and held her writing pad ready.

"Have our people look into this," the Fuhrer said.

"Yes, sir."

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"Another day, another dollar," Summer muttered to herself as she climbed the steps to the roof.

She wasn't sure why she said it. Money here was called sen, and nobody had ever heard of dollars. She said it anyway. She crossed to the edge of the roof and put her foot up on the raised ledge.

Gravel crunched and Summer turned. The rooftop seemed empty; the door was still closed. She looked to the left, carefully observing the vents and chimneys. She then looked to the right. Motion drew her eyes back to the left. The Fuhrer's secretary was suddenly standing there. Summer pulled her leg down from the edge of the roof. The other woman just watched her.

"Hello," Summer said.

The woman continued watching her.

"Oh yeah…I was…stretching you know…the roof is a good place for stretching," Summer said.

The Fuhrer's secretary just looked at her. Summer's stomach was tying itself in knots, but it wasn't from embarrassment.

_She's not human_…a voice in the back of Summer's mind whispered.

There was another sound from the opposite side of the roof.

_She's not alone_…the voice added.

She looked to the door. The path seemed clear.

_Maybe_ _they're like me_, she argued with herself. But she could feel deep down that it wasn't true. The secretary's eyes were empty and dull. Summer herself was something other, but she didn't know if the woman could see that. She didn't want to risk it, especially since this was the only uniform she had left.

"Well…it was so nice talking to you," Summer said, walking sideways towards the door.

She was careful not to run. Predators can't help but chase you if you run. She felt bad for backing down from a fight, but something she had said the night before stuck in her head.

_There's always a bigger fish._

Summer's hand found the doorknob. She paused for a moment. The thing on the other side of the roof was getting closer, but she didn't hear anything from the stairwell. She pulled open the door and started down. The secretary was still watching her as she backed away and let the door swing shut.

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"Who was that?" the woman in green asked in a low, whispering voice.

"A private, transferred in from Melthith. Her papers are as real as mine," the Fuhrer's secretary said. "I think she may be dangerous."

"And you didn't do anything about her? Sloth, you are starting to live up to your name," the woman in green chided.

"Have you carried out our master's orders, Lust?"

The woman in green sighed a bit. "Of course. The disease is already spreading through the refugee camps. It will be in every house in Central in a month."

"And you have the list of those who won't survive it?" the secretary continued.

"Of course, though this seems a bit excessive. I don't see why we don't just feed them to Gluttony. It's only a few hundred people."

"If there are no bodies, suspicion will be raised in other branches of the military. This plague was carefully chosen. Those who die from this disease-"

"Will be indistinguishable from someone who was smothered the old fashioned way. I know. It's just… smothering is so…boring. Couldn't you have found a plague that sliced people's heads off?"

The secretary gave the woman in green a bored look.

The woman in green sighed. "I just hope Envy gets here in time. He doesn't mind killing in such an un-dramatic way."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note:** In this story I'm using the term 'plague' to refer to widespread infectious disease, rather than the Black Death that took out a third of Europe. Also for those readers confused about where this would theoretically fit into the FMA story line, it would be spliced into the Anime, about episode Eight, when Ed is 14 and Al is 13. Any clearer? Also the story will be a bit AU since Buffy was not in the FMA verse before.

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**Marz**

**Quarantine**

**Six Weeks Later…**

It started with a sore throat, fatigue, and a headache. Then the fever came along with a blotchy rash. Then the cough got worse. Lungs refused to hold air while the rest of the body burned up. Those who survived it said it felt as if they were being suffocated. Those that didn't survive looked as if they had been suffocated. The doctors declared there was a forty percent mortality rate, but no one quite believed them. There were no doctors to be found after the first few weeks, anyway.

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It was still snowing, though it was supposed to be spring. They had given up plowing the streets. Summer didn't mind. She took the roofs to work anyway. Only a few other figures were struggling through the white wasteland below, heading for work, or the bare markets. There were two guards outside the Central office, but no one at the security desk or in the halls. Most of the guards still considered healthy and useful had been transferred over to Fuhrer President King Bradley's offices; the rest were spread out in little pockets throughout the Central complex.

Summer frowned as she walked to the typing pool. The halls were quiet today, and every day grew more so. Not everyone was sick, of course. Anyone who could stay home did, preferring the risk of court-martial over infection. Her destination was the only source of sound on the entire floor.

As she walked, a song went through her head, and though she couldn't remember the source or the subject, it chilled her the way actual cold weather could not.

**_Ring around the Rosy!_**

**_Hands are full of Posies! _**

**_Ashes! Ashes! We all fall down!_**

It was a song about a sickness, but she couldn't remember the details of it. Who would write a song about a disease anyway?

Summer wasn't surprised to see quite a few Officers had brought their paperwork and moved from empty offices into the typing pool. Captain Marks had brought a folder of requisition forms. First Lieutenants Bicks and Samson were processing draft orders. Lt. Colonel Gloss was pretending to go over intelligence reports, while flirting with Private Mills as she tried to type. Summer nodded to everyone and slid into her chair. Corporal Sung was missing from the front of the room, and Summer knew she must be sick. The old bat wouldn't have missed work for all the automail in Rush Valley.

Summer pulled a sheet from her inbox, and started typing. Hers was the only machine in the room making noise and it caused the other slacking soldiers to flinch. After a few minutes they got used to it, and the conversations started up again. Summer frowned a bit as they tried to drag her in as well.

"The disease came from Drachma," Captain Marks insisted. "You agree with me, right sweetheart?"

Summer shrugged. "It might have," she allowed. "Or it could have showed up in a can of peaches. I don't think it matters at this point."

"How could it not matter?" Marks said, still leaning over her desk. "If they did send it here on purpose it's an act of war."

"That's not going to make anyone here any less sick," she said.

"But we have to get justice!" Marks said. "We have to make them pay for doing this to us!"

"If they did it, who is going to get justice?" Summer asked. "Because so far you've got about half the typing pool well enough to deploy. I think the janitor on the first floor is still up and going. A broom isn't that much different from a rifle, right?"

Marks rolled his eyes. "You have no sense of duty."

"And your grip on reality is none too firm. What's your point?" she said, growling as the R key snapped off.

"You won't get promoted with that attitude," Marks said threateningly.

She rolled her eyes. "And you won't live very long with yours."

"Like a woman knows anything about death," Marks scoffed.

"Don't you have toothbrushes to requisition, Captain?" Summer said.

Marks was starting to turn red in the face, and Private Mills was shaking her head and mouthing the word 'apologize'. Summer rolled her eyes and fished the broken key out of under her typewriter.

"I'm going to find some glue," she announced. "Don't y'all go to war without me."

She was almost to Hughes' office when she came across Major Armstrong, stumbling through the hall. He had a hand pressed over his mouth trying not to cough. His face was red and blotchy. He lost his fight and the spasms brought him to his knees.

"Want me to get somebody?" Summer asked.

"I'm fine," Armstrong insisted. "The secrets of health have been passed down the Armstrong line-"

Another fit of coughing cut him off. He tried to get to his feet, but his arms shook so hard they slipped out of under him. Sweat soaked through his jacket.

"-fine-" he wheezed.

"Yeah, right," Summer said. She knelt down and pulled one of his arms over her shoulder. She stood up, lifting the much larger man. He couldn't get all the way upright. There was too much difference in height. She dragged him towards the infirmary. He started to cough, shaking them both as he struggled to breathe. He was barely conscious by the time they got there, and Summer was supporting most of his weight.

The local infirmary was empty. A few cabinets hung open, bottles broken or empty. Pills crunched under her heels. The looting of the base had already begun.

"Crap," she declared.

Her words echoed back to her. She dragged Armstrong to the largest bed in the room, and flopped him onto it. His feet hung over the end.

"The doctors aren't here. They might all be down at the civilian hospital," Summer said. "Or maybe in the President's wing, but they aren't going to let me in there."

She thought she was talking to herself, but Armstrong opened his eyes. He was watching her suspiciously.

"How'd you carry me down here?" he asked hoarsely.

"You aren't that heavy. Besides, I dragged you most of the way."

"You aren't even sweating."

"Ladies don't sweat. It's unseemly," Summer said, waving a hand dismissively.

"You shouldn't be here," Armstrong said. "It's contagious."

"I don't get sick," Summer said.

Summer went to the window and looked out. A few figures were rushing across the courtyard below, but none of them looked like doctors. She rested her forehead on the glass for a moment. _Why can't it be something I can hit?_

When it first hit Central, six weeks ago, she thought it was just a bad round of flu, but then they were carting bodies out of the refugee camps. Soon they were carting bodies out of the city, too. Nobody wanted to come to Central, even to deliver food. Everything quadrupled in price.

She'd been dealing with more and more crime as people got desperate. People whom she once considered noble were stealing from their neighbors, fighting for scraps of food and firewood. Even when she broke up the fights, she knew she hadn't really helped. Everyone was still starving. Everyone was still freezing.

She looked back and saw Armstrong had fallen asleep. She grabbed the blankets off the other beds and tossed them over him. He was wheezing a bit, but she didn't think he was going to kick the bucket anytime soon. She wondered if she should leave him alone in the infirmary, with people stealing everything that wasn't nailed down. Then she shrugged. She doubted anyone would mess with a seven-foot-tall mass of muscle, even if he was sick. She picked up a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol off the floor, splashed it over her hands, and then headed for the Court Marshal office again, closing the door behind her.

She knocked on the door. A haggard man whose name patch was obscured by a coffee stain opened the door for her.

"Yes?" he demanded.

"I have to talk to Lt. Colonel Hughes if he's here," Summer said. She knew he was. She could hear him talking on the phone to his buddy in Eastern, Roy something-or-other.

"Why?" the man asked, blocking the door.

"Major Armstrong passed out. I dragged him to the infirmary, but there's nobody there. Does he have a wife we should call or something? He works in this office, right?"

"Armstrong's got it now?" Lt. Coffee-stain demanded. "And you touched him?"

"That's right," Summer said, getting very annoyed. "So move it," she ordered, waving her hands at the man.

He retreated in fear of cooties. She supposed she shouldn't tease people. It was possible she could spread it, even if she didn't catch whatever the disease was. She was always careful about washing her hands before she got near Hughes or his family, though.

When Hughes saw her, he nearly dropped the phone.

"Summer?! What's wrong?" he demanded.

The Hughes family had so far managed to avoid the disease, but she knew Hughes paced at night worrying about it.

"Armstrong's got it. I brought him to the infirmary, but there's nobody there. Should we like, call somebody?" she asked.

Hughes looked relieved for a moment, and then worried again. "Armstrong usually stays in the barrack, but his parents and sister live in Central. I'll find their number in his file when I'm done here."

"Need help with anything?" Summer asked.

He shook his head.

"See you around then, I guess," Summer said.

She headed back through the silent halls to the typing pool, feeling useless again.

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"Who was that?" Colonel Mustang asked.

"Nobody," Hughes said. "Armstrong's just come down with it, by the way."

Mustang made a thoughtful noise. "Why wasn't Armstrong in the relative safety of the Presidential offices? I thought all State Alchemists were ordered to stay there until the 'sanitary conditions' of the city improved."

"He insisted on going with the soldiers working security around the city," Hughes said. "Without him around keeping people in line, the riots are going to tear this city down. I wouldn't be surprised if they brought in more troops to keep order. This is going to get messy, Roy."

"And I'm sure Fullmetal is going to walk right into it," Mustang finished with a sigh.

"Roy, he isn't that dumb," Hughes said. "They're literally hours away from putting the whole city under Quarantine. Ed will go around."

"I hope you're right, Maes, but I doubt it. He's careful of anything that will harm his brother, but germs won't do a thing to Al in his condition. When Fullmetal gets there, lock him up with the other Alchemists," Mustang said.

"Alright, Roy," Hughes said. "So how are things in Eastern? Do you have a wife yet?"

Mustang growled into the phone. "Don't you have work to be doing?"

"Not really," Hughes said cheerfully. "Everyone is too sick to be Court-martialed. I have the cutest pictures of Elicia…"

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Summer sat at the table, staring morosely at her plate. The Hughes' were slightly better off than most of the people in Central, since Maes Hughes was obsessed with being prepared, and had squirreled away more then a year's worth of food in the cellar. She knew it wouldn't last long, though. Gracia was at that moment fixing up gift baskets for the people on their block who had already run out. Summer would have skipped a meal if she could, but her insides felt hollow. She could go without sleep. She hadn't even seen her bed in the attic in a week. But she couldn't go without food.

"Eat," Hughes insisted.

She poked at the food some more. "I don't know what to do," she said.

"You just stab it with the fork and stuff it in your mouth," he said, knowledgably.

Summer snorted. "I mean about this. I don't know what to do. I'm not helping enough."

"You can't fix everything," Hughes said, "You'll go crazy if you try."

"Been there, done that," Summer said.

Hughes smiled faintly.

The phone rang, and Hughes rushed to answer. He came back to the table looking grim. Summer had overheard his whole conversation, but she asked what happened anyway.

"The train station has shut down," Hughes said, pushing up his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They aren't letting anyone leave, to keep it from spreading."

"What about the stuff coming in? Food? Medicine?" Summer asked.

"Only official Military transports are being allowed through."

"This is going to get ugly fast," she said.

"It's ugly already. A civilian was shot in the train station when he tried to climb a fence and get into one of the military cars. They want me back at work," he said.

"I should head out, too," Summer said.

"Not until you eat," Hughes said, pushing her back into her seat.

Summer tried to rush but Hughes was already long gone by the time she finished and washed up her plate. The gift baskets were still lying on the counter. She looked around for Gracia. After a moment she paused to listen. Elicia was upstairs asleep and snoring quietly. Gracia was in the living room; she sounded funny. Summer rushed in, and found her sprawled on the couch. She was moving, though. Her eyes were closed but she was breathing.

"Gracia?" she asked, kneeling down.

"uuuuuh?" Gracia answered groggily, blinking and trying to sit up.

"Do you want me to go hand out the baskets?" Summer asked, her voice shaking.

"Summer…don't go out. It's not safe," Gracia said.

Gracia started coughing. Summer helped her sit up, but that didn't improve things. Her face flushed and she started making awful wheezing sounds as she tried to pull in air between the coughs. All Summer could do was hang on.

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Hughes climbed out of Major Damon's car, feeling as if he'd been run over by it. He waved as the other man drove away. It was four in the morning, and Hughes had to report back in at seven. He knew he should have taken a nap in his office, but he had a bad feeling. He made the trip. He saw the lights were on and his heart stopped. He dropped his briefcase in the street and ran up the steps.

"Gracia!" he called. "Elicia?!"

He didn't know if he unlocked the door or kicked it down. Suddenly he was in the living room.

"Gracia!"

"She's lying down," Summer said, appearing in kitchen doorway. "She's not feeling good."

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Hughes sprinted up the stairs. Summer wanted to cry. Elicia started crying instead. Summer went up to the baby's room and picked her up. She started rocking her. She heard Gracia coughing in the other room, and fought the urge to drag Hughes out of there. _He'll get sick too, and then there'll be nobody._ Elicia kept crying.

"Your mom will be fine. Everything's fine," Summer said. "It's fine."

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Summer didn't go to work the next day. She played with Elicia and kept her busy. She fought the urge to cry as Elicia called for mommy, and Summer refused to let her see her. Elicia could walk and whenever Summer set her down, she would try to get to her mother's room. Summer finally moved Elicia's crib downstairs and then blocked them off, to keep Elicia from getting sick.

Summer brought Gracia food, tea, and juice, but the sick woman had no appetite. Gracia just slept and coughed and slept some more. Summer washed her hands and changed clothes before going downstairs to play with Elicia again. The whole day she rattled with tension. Night fell and she could hear screams and gunfire in the slums and refugee camps.

_I should be out there_, she thought. But she couldn't leave the Hughes' unguarded.

The hours ticked by, and Maes Hughes didn't come home. He didn't call. Summer watched the phone. She worried what kind of rumors would get started if she asked the base operators to put her through to Hughes' office. She picked up the receiver and put it back down a dozen times. It was almost midnight when she heard the rattle of armor boots on the street outside.

The door swung open and Hughes came in, dragging a stumbling and grumpy Edward Elric behind him. Ed pressed a hand over his mouth as he started to cough. Al came in behind them, rattling nervously.

"Don't have the plague," Ed wheezed. "Just a cold. What are you doing here?" he demanded, noticing Summer.

"Babysitting," Summer said. "Gracia does have it."

Ed's mouth dropped open and he stared at Hughes. "Is she alright?" Ed asked.

"What kind of stupid question is that? She has plague," Summer snapped.

"Come on, Ed," Hughes said wearily. "You need to lie down."

"I'm fine," Ed insisted, though Summer now noted that his pupils were dilated and his face was flushed.

"You can lie down here, or at the military hospital. You do remember disobeying a direct order and breaking quarantine don't you?" Hughes asked.

"I'm not sick," Ed insisted. "I'll be fine tomorrow."

"Then we'll talk about it tomorrow," Hughes said.

When Ed was settled in the guest room, with Al under strict orders not to let him out, Hughes came back to the kitchen, where Summer had set up Elicia's crib.

"What's he doing here?" Summer asked.

"He snuck in past the roadblocks so he could look something up in the State Alchemist library," Hughes said, shaking his head. "That boy has far more drive then brains."

"Won't they take him at the military headquarters?" she asked.

Hughes sighed. "I know you don't need this right now, Summer, but if we bring him there he'll be charged with breaking quarantine. He's important to the State Alchemist program, but they won't overlook this. Besides, if it is just a cold, I don't want to risk him catching the plague in the base hospital. That place is a mess right now."

Summer nodded.

"I made soup," she said. "It's on the stove, and there are rolls in the oven. Elicia's asleep in there. The kitchen, not the oven, I mean. I wouldn't put Elicia in the oven."

Summer stopped babbling and pressed her hands over her eyes. "I've got to go out. I hear them fighting."

Hughes nodded. "We'll be alright till morning," he said.

She started up the stairs, to get her disguise. From two rooms, she heard desperate coughing. She growled in frustration, almost feeling pity for those who would cross her path that night.

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Envy stood on the foot board, watching them sleep, Dr. Emil Votch and his wife. Votch used to work in government lab number 2, but had transferred out due to a conflict of morals. Maybe he had figured out what they were sending on to lab 5 and maybe he hadn't. Not that it mattered to Envy. A hit list was a hit list.

It would be difficult to smother the husband without waking the wife, so why bother? He leapt forward, clamping his left hand over the man's mouth and nose. He caught the wife in the same manner with his right. They kicked and clawed at his hands, but it was useless. Each injury healed immediately in a violet spark. Envy grinned down at them, snickering at the terror in their bulging eyes.

There was a shuffling of small feet by the door. Envy turned and saw the daughter had woken up. He sighed as she started screaming. Now he'd have to get her too, and the noise would probably wake the boy, and then he'd have to die.

"Work, work, work…" he muttered.

The girl didn't run. She just stood there screaming her lungs out. Envy glared. She was too far away to kick. He looked down at the parents. The husband had passed out, but the wife was still digging nails into his hands. He frowned. Breaking necks was so much easier. Suddenly, the girl shut up.

He turned back toward her and a foot slammed into his face. He crashed into the wall and fell down on top of the people he'd been smothering. The woman rolled away, but the husband remained unmoving. Envy growled and faced his attacker, and was once again kicked in the face. He bounced off the wall, but before he landed, hands seized his shirt and he was smashed backwards through the window. He got his feet under him, and landed neatly, springing backwards as a dark figure launched itself through the broken window after him.

He took a moment to study his opponent. It was a woman, short, thin and hidden almost entirely by a patchwork suit. Her face was obscured by a thick layer of clay, with ash shadowing her eyes. He'd heard about this nut from Sloth.

"So you're the Demon?" Envy said.

He took her form in an attempt to startle her, but she didn't even blink. Instead she smiled at him revealing gleaming white teeth.

Envy shifted his feet, watching for a hitch in her guard. "What are you smiling about?" he growled.

"Been waiting for you," she said. "It's great that you're here. I thought I was out of the job."

"What job is that?" he growled.

"Putting the dead back in their graves," she answered. "And don't call me Demon. To you I'm the Slayer."


	7. Chapter 7

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**In Waking**

She didn't usually bother to patrol the rich neighborhoods. Looters knew that even if the military wasn't actively patrolling, people who could afford big houses and tall fences could afford guns, too. It was sort of a whim that took her through Brook street, but it had been a good one.

When she saw him crawling through the window of the house, her blood started singing. Her guts twisted up. She'd seen him, but he hadn't seen her. She heard the screams and crawled in after him. He was suffocating two people. A part of her demanded to know why he wasn't biting them, but then she had her hands on him and suddenly it didn't matter.

The instinct to tear, pummel, and stab was almost overwhelming. But a little voice in the back of her head (with a British accent) told her to calm down and learn, because you know there are more of them. She stomped back her nature, and let her mouth go to work.

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"Slayer? What kind of name is that?" Envy said, as they circled each other in the street.

The woman was still grinning. "It's an old name. What do they call you?"

"I'm Envy," he growled, charging.

As he ran he returned to his favorite form, a teenage boy with hair like a spider plant. She leapt over him, rolling gracefully through the air.

"Alright," she said. "Question two: what's up with your hair?"

Envy leapt at her. This time he managed to land a blow. It should have fractured her skull, or at least knocked her out. Her foot caught him in the belly and knocked him back into the snow. She shook her head, cracked her neck, and came at him.

"Third question," she said as she kicked at his knee. "Did somebody help you pick out that tank and shorts combo? 'Cause if so, they really don't like you."

Envy darted in again, trying to catch a hold of the inhumanly fast woman. She couldn't have been from their labs. They'd never made anything that good. He clenched his teeth. He'd bring her body to his master, after he tore the bitch limb from limb.

He landed a grazing blow on her shoulder, but she blocked the following kick, and slammed her forehead into his nose. Blood spurted, but the wound closed a moment later in a flash of purple light before he took his next breath.

"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!" he growled incoherently, chasing her as she hopped and cartwheeled out of his reach.

She got to a picket fence, and snapped off a short length of wood. She inspected the sharp splintered end for a moment and then lunged at him, darting under his guard and ramming the wood through his ribcage into his heart. Envy growled and pulled the stake out of his chest. The bloody hole sealed itself in a shower of purple sparks.

"You think you can kill me by poking little holes?" he growled.

"Did it at least hurt?" she asked.

His right hand reformed itself. Bones melted together to form a sharp spike. "Why don't you tell me?" he asked, lunging.

She dodged his first swing and kicked him in the face again. He stumbled back onto the steps of a house. She came at him again, but her foot slid and as she swayed to catch her balance, he jammed his spiked hand into her stomach. Blood gushed, but she didn't scream or stumble or die like she should have. Instead, she took the opportunity of their close proximity to claw at his eyes. He shrieked and pushed her away.

She hopped back. A hand drifted to the injury in her stomach, but she didn't look overly concerned.

"Why won't you die?" Envy growled.

"Back at you," she said.

"I'm Immortal!" he said.

"Come on, really?" she asked.

He growled and charged again.

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Summer frowned. A stake through the heart was supposed to kill them. She was sure of that. Of course, he wasn't drinking blood, and though his teeth were sharp, they weren't really fangs. And she couldn't remember anything about shape-shifting.

**_Conclusion: not a vampire._**

She sighed, and dodged as the thing swung at her again. What else killed unnatural creatures? She looked around. There were lots of wooden fences, but those had proved ineffective. She saw a cast iron gate up the street a bit. She kicked the creature in the face for the hundredth time and took off towards it.

She grabbed one of the uprights and pulled. The metal shrieked as she tore it loose. Envy was only a few feet away. She pivoted and lunged. The pole stabbed through his chest and poked out the other side. She swung the poll, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the side of a building. He growled and slammed a fist down on the pole, snapping the iron.

He pulled the iron from his chest and charged her again. She sidestepped. As he passed, she saw the mark on the back of his leg. It was like hers, but less complicated, a dragon, eating its own tail, wrapped around a star.

"Did alchemists make you?" she asked.

This seemed to piss him off far more than the pole through his chest. His face was an insane mask of fury as he lunged at her, swinging so fast she could barely block. Her arms started to ache from the force of the blows. This wasn't going quite as well as she intended. What else could she try? Fire? Decapitation? She didn't really have the tools for that.

A siren wailed from a few blocks away, and then another. The woman in the house must have called an ambulance, and since the neighborhood was upper class, apparently they had decided to show up. Envy backed away for a moment, apparently concerned by the arrival of more witnesses as well.

"I'll have to kill you quick," he growled.

Summer sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this, but I'm afraid I'll have to chick fight."

"What?" Envy demanded.

Summer lunged forward and grabbed a handful of the creature's hair. He howled as she leaned back and pulled. Apparently his hair was rooted more solidly than she expected, but she could work with that. Instead of tugging out a clump of hair, she turned, and swung him by it, lifting him off his feet as he continued to rage. She spun, built up speed and released. Envy went flying, still screaming threats, over the nearest building. She heard him land in the alley behind it.

A flashing light at the end of the street told her the ambulance and the police had arrived. She jumped for the nearest roof, barely catching the stone cornice, and pulled herself up.

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Alphonse Elric paced up and down the tiny guest room. Over the past seven hours, Ed had only gotten worse. It was obvious now that his older brother didn't have a cold. He was sweating profusely, twitching, and mumbling. Al wasn't sure if he was really asleep, but Ed didn't respond when he tried to talk to him. Once in a while he popped upright in the bed and coughed. His eyes would open then, but if he was aware of what was going on, Al saw no sign.

Mr. Hughes had come up several times to check on Ed, and Gracia in the room next to theirs. The dark circles around his eyes and slightly wobbly walk told Al Hughes wasn't in good shape, either. Al heard something creak in the ceiling above him. He wondered why Mr. Hughes would be in the attic. Al crept to the door, which was open a crack, and peered out into the hall. The ladder to the attic dropped down, and Summer, the woman who had been babysitting, walked down. She made no sound as she moved. Her hair was a mess and her face was dirty. As she passed, Al saw the front of her shirt was soaked with blood. She turned suddenly and Al froze. Her eyes were wide and slightly mad.

"I found one," she said, smiling.

Al nodded, unable to otherwise respond. Ed coughed and he looked over at him. When he looked back into the hall, the woman was gone, and the ladder was up. He stepped out into the hall and looked around. Al wondered if he had actually seen anything.

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Maes Hughes stood in the kitchen, watching the kettle boil. Elicia was still asleep, but the sun was coming up and he knew it wouldn't last. She'd start calling for mommy again. He dumped the powdered coffee into his cup, half filling it. He didn't enjoy drinking caffenated sludge, but he knew he wouldn't make it otherwise. His eyes didn't want to stay open, but they wouldn't stay closed, either. He looked at his watch. Summer was usually back by now. He rubbed at his face. The room had been growing hotter for the past hour. His throat was scratchy and his chest ached.

_I won't catch it. I'm just tired. It's nothing._

"Guess what?" Summer said excitedly from right behind him.

Hughes whirled, startled. Summer had changed out of her strange patchwork suit, but she hadn't gotten all the clay off of her face, and as he looked down at her clothes, he started.

"Summer you're bleeding all over the floor!" Hughes shouted.

"Oh, that's nothing! Listen! I found one! I thought I was crazy, but they're real. I think I can kill it for good if I can chop off its head. Do you know where I can get a sword?"

"Summer!" Hughes said.

He pulled a towel off the counter and pressed it to her side. He wondered if the blood loss was making her loopy. That had never happened before, but the way things were going, it probably would decide to happen now.

"Oh yeah," Summer said, practically dancing with excitement. "He got me. I got him better, but he heals faster. He changes faces. He has a mark like mine on his leg, but not as complicated."

"Summer," he said.

"I think I might have seen another one a few weeks ago-"

"Summer!" he said more loudly.

She stopped her rambling story and focused on him. "Hughes, you don't look so good."

"I don't feel so good," he said. "Can you go bandage yourself up, change clothes, and keep an eye on things? I've got to go into work, see if I can maybe get one of the doctors from the President's wing to come by and check on Gracia and Ed."

"Alright," Summer said.

Her enthusiasm had evaporated. The kettle whistled. As he leaned past Summer to get it, the room tilted. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, things seemed back to normal. He picked up the kettle and started to pour it over the instant coffee powder in his cup. Something was wrong. His feet were getting hot, and the cup wasn't getting full. Summer was shouting and the room tilted again.

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Summer lifted Hughes up onto the counter. She pushed his feet into the sink and turned on the cold tap. He mumbled something about work and tried to fall off the counter. The scalded skin was blistering in a few places. Hughes slumped against her. His feet were still red, but she turned off the water when they started to get pruney.

"You promised you wouldn't get sick," Summer said as she lifted him off the counter and set him in a chair.

"Have to go to work," he mumbled.

"They gave you the day off," Summer said. "Wasn't that nice of them?"

"Yes, nice," he said.

She scooped him up and carried him up the stairs. She heard a door creaking and remembered suddenly that Al had seen her coming out of the attic. As she got to the top of the stairs, she saw Al was watching her again through the barely open door of the guest room.

"You could give me a hand," Summer called.

Al wrung his hands for a moment and then came out into the hall, taking the semi-conscious Hughes from her.

"Is this really happening?" Al asked.

"I think it's best to work from the assumption that it is," Summer said.

She opened the door to the Hughes' bedroom. Gracia managed to open her eyes. Her gaze was glassy.

"Summer, who's watching Elicia?" she rasped.

"She's still asleep," Summer said.

She pulled back the covers and Al put Hughes in bed next to his wife.

"Summer, are you watching her?" Gracia asked again.

"Yes ma'am," Summer said again.

"I don't think Maes is feeling so well. Can you watch Elicia?" Gracia repeated.

"I will. Get some sleep," Summer said, burying them under blankets.

She and Al backed out of the room. Summer put her hands over her face. This was bad. This was so bad. The confusion was coming back, memories of people dying, of people dying because she couldn't save them. It was getting out of control. She had to get out of there. She had to get away from them and find something. Something she had lost. Something she used to be.

Suddenly there was a very large hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Ms. Summer?" Al asked.

She blinked at him, confused.

"Ms. Summer?" he asked again, rather desperately. "You're the last adult here; please don't get sick."

She looked at Al for a long time, focusing on his voice.

"I won't," she said. "Come on, Al. We've got stuff to do."

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Al spent most of the day scared out of his mind, hiding in Ed's room. He and brother were used to taking care of themselves. They'd had only the most minimal adult supervision since their mother died, and that seemed half a lifetime ago now. If Ed got sick, he would be grumpy and Al would make him wear an extra sweater and eat soup. At worst Al would drag his brother to the hospital and force him to hold still for antibiotics or vitamin shots. But now there was no where to run for help. The hospitals were closed or overrun and the city was sealed. Things had only been this bad one other time…when Ed had lost his arm and leg.

Al had picked up his older, but suddenly smaller, brother and run to Auntie Pinako's house. She was an automail surgeon, as well as a mechanic, so she knew what to do. Still, Ed had barely made it. That had been bad, and he _trusted _Auntie Pinako. Al paced back and forth by his brother's bed. Ms. Summer seemed nice, but she'd been covered in blood and she picked up Mr. Hughes like he weighed nothing. Even if she didn't have the plague, for he'd never seen her cough, there was definitely something wrong with her. But she was the only adult still standing.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Al would have jumped right out of his skin if he had any.

"Al?" Summer asked in a whisper.

Al wondered, if he didn't answer, would she go away? He opened the door. She was dressed in Gracia's old clothes with the sleeves and cuffs rolled up.

"I'm going to go around the neighborhood and drop off food at the places Gracia mentioned. Can you wash your hands and keep an eye on Elicia?"

"Y-y-yes," Al finally managed.

He followed her into the hall.

"You ok?" she asked.

"I…I'm scared," he said finally.

"Of what?" she asked.

"What if brother dies?" he asked. "And Mr. Hughes and everyone?"

"We aren't going to let them," Summer said. She stopped walking for a moment and gave him a hard look. "Level with me," she said. "You know I'm not normal. I know you aren't. We're the freaks, and that's why we aren't sick. That's how we're going to make this work. We're stronger then they are, and even if they want to leave us we aren't going to let them."

Inside, Al frowned. Ed had talked like that, right after their mother died. He went into the bathroom to wash his armored hands.

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**Three Days Later...**

Every sense but the tactile was hazy. The waves of heat and cold, the raw feeling in his throat, the ache in his chest and his pounding head were clear. But voices were mumbling echoes. The light hurt his eyes so much he couldn't keep them open for more than a few blinks.

"Al?" Ed asked.

His brother had been in the room with him, but he couldn't remember when. _Al wouldn't leave me here, would he? _Ed thought in foggy panic.

"Al?" he called again.

He couldn't get rid of the irrational fear that Al had, in fact, left. It would make sense. Al didn't want to come to Central. He'd threatened to make Ed go alone, but in the end he had followed him onto the train, and then through the snow to the sealed-off city.

_He got mad and left me. He's mad because I told him I'd get his body back, but now I'm going to die and fail._

"Al?" he rasped.

Ed struggled to get up, but his arms shook and he started to fall out of bed. Arms caught him and pushed him back.

"I know you haven't had stupid pills today, so quit acting like it," an unfamiliar female voice commanded.

"Have to find Al," Ed said. "have to tell him…I'm sorry...I couldn't save mom...I couldn't save Nina…couldn't save him. I've failed…hurk!"

His rambling was cut off by an explosion of coughing. He couldn't breathe, no matter how hard he tried. He clawed at his throat but his arms were caught and pulled away. The world turned red and then black.

He came to with someone muttering in his ear and blotting the sweat and spit off his face with a towel.

"No dying, Shorty," the woman said. "It's against the rules."

"Not short," Ed choked out over his raw throat.

"Sure you aren't," the woman snorted. "The rest of the world is just oversized. You want water?"

Ed nodded. She helped him sit up and pressed the glass to his lips. He tried to take it from her but his flesh and blood hand was shaking too badly and moving his automail made his chest hurt too much.

"Think you can eat something?" the woman asked when the glass was empty.

Ed nodded. "Where's Al?"

"He's at the end of the block looking scary to keep looters away," the woman said "He's being useful, unlike some people who are trying to get worse."

"I have to help him," Ed insisted.

"No." she said. "Soup now. Save later."

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Summer walked slowly up the steps of Central. The building was even darker than the last time she'd been in to work. The guards waved her through. She didn't head for the typing pool. Instead, she crept toward the Presidential offices. The local hospitals wouldn't even give her aspirin, but she was sure she'd find something useful in the officers' infirmary. There were more guards in this part of the complex, but when her uniform didn't get her through a checkpoint, she snuck around it.

The infirmary was filled with supplies and empty of patients. She fought the urge to growl. There was a nurse in one corner of the room, tapping a pen against an inventory clipboard. She didn't even look up as Summer came up behind her. A quick tap to the temple knocked the woman out cold.

Summer went to the drug lockers and yanked them open. She didn't know exactly what she needed, so she stuffed the pockets of her uniform jacket with a bit of everything. She closed up the lockers again and walked to the door. She pressed her ear to it. The hall was empty, but talk from a few rooms over drifted into her ears. She recognized both voices.

"-Drachma will be completely unprepared for an offensive this time of year," General Gran said.

"But it will be impossible to maintain a supply chain. Especially with Central under the shadow of plague," replied the other man.

Summer couldn't put a name with the second voice, but the man used to hang out in the typing pool, when there were girls there.

"The next shipment will keep them moving for at least a month," Gran said.

"Sir, can we really afford to send supplies out at a time like this? Half the city is starving and the-"

"A few less leeches in the slums of Central is a small price to pay for a secure border, Lt. Colonel Gloss," the Gran said, emphasizing the title. "That train is leaving tonight. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the other man replied.

Summer bared her teeth. Even she wasn't sure if it was a growl or a grin.

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Al had been playing with Elicia when Summer returned. She'd come back, pockets filled with pills, bottles and a few syringes. She didn't have any prescriptions or receipts, though. This worried Al a great deal, but he didn't say anything.

"Is everything ok?" she asked.

Al nodded. "They're all sleeping. And I washed my hands after I checked on them."

"Good job," Summer said, as she read the back of one of the bottles she'd acquired. "Any idea what methatrexate does?"

Al shook his head.

"Maybe somebody in the market will know," she said. "Al, do you have a map of Central?"

"I think there's one in brother's suitcase," he said.

Summer ran up the steps and returned a moment later with the map and a pen. She sat down at the kitchen table, which was now covered in medicine, and started tracing. Al looked over her shoulder, and saw she was outlining the North Main Express line.

"Are you going somewhere?" Al asked, feeling slightly panicked.

"Nope," she said smiling faintly. "Just going to catch a train."


	8. Chapter 8

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Catching Trains**

Roger Blake sat behind his desk, going over the books. His business wasn't doing well. With a plague in town, nobody wanted to gamble, drink, or call up one of his girls. They weren't interested in buying the items that came into his possession through less than legal means. All anybody wanted was food and coal, and while he was fairly deep in the black market, he couldn't pull these items out of thin air. Things weren't going well. And then to top it off, the Demon crawled into his office.

Her appearance was unprecedented, and the only way he could really confirm her identity was her manner of entry. She came into the room, clinging to the rafters in the ceiling. And at no point during her visit did she come down. His hand strayed to the holster under his arm, but he fought back the urge. He knew bullets wouldn't kill it.

"Got something to say to me?" Blake asked.

The Demon had never personally caused him any trouble, but more than one of his enforcers had hobbled back to him with a broken leg or arm, complaining that the Demon had roughed him up.

"I want a truck," she said.

He'd expected her to sound grave or…demonic, but her voice wasn't particularly awe-inspiring. Maybe that was why she rarely spoke.

"Maybe we can work something out," he said. "What kind of truck?"

"Big one. Got lots to move."

He reached into his desk and pulled out a set of keys.

"Take it," he said. "It's in the last row out back."

"Need a driver, too," she said.

"Alan, get in here!" Blake shouted.

Alan, one of his least useful enforcers, stumbled in, balancing on the narrow divide between drunk and hung-over. At first, he didn't notice the thing on the ceiling, and when he did he fell on his ass.

"Go with the nice lady, Alan," Blake said.

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Summer leapt from the roof and landed silently on the shed that covered the train cars. There were flood lights all around the military section of the train depot. Her clay face paint would probably look shine like a beacon, and she tugged the collar of her patchwork suit up higher. There were few people around to observe what the light struck, but there was no need to take stupid risks either. If the Demon was spotted, they probably wouldn't let the train out of the yard.

She watched as they loaded bags of rice and crates of preserved military rations into the six cars. When a car was full, a man with a blow torch would hurry over, and weld it shut in a shower of spark. It took them almost an hour to load the cars. Summer tried to figure in her head how long it would take her to unload them, and how many trips the truck would have to make. Alan was supposed to meet her just inside the warehouse district, but if he was late that would throw everything off. She quickly gave up. She would just go as fast as she could.

There was a shout to wait as the welder moved to seal the last freight car. She crept along the top of the shed, watching with interest as several handcarts were rushed forward and several large boxes were stuffed in. Familiar smells reached her nose. Coffee and sugar, probably for officers.

An engine rolled backward up the tracks, and with a resounding boom, coupled with the freight cars. During the momentary distraction, she hopped down onto the nearest car. She spotted Lt. Colonel Gloss waving and pointing frantically as he directed soldiers into position. Summer was a little surprised as a female soldier stopped in front of Gloss, and a male soldier stopped a bit behind her, equally at attention, but looking very nervous.

"What is it, Ross?" Gloss demanded, tiredly.

Summer had an almost uncontrollable urge to point out their rhyming names, but she suppressed it.

"Sir!" the woman said. "I feel it is my duty to mention the inherent fault in the placement of personnel on the train. If we are stationed on the outer platforms, we will be vulnerable to sniper fire and in a poor position to return fire should such a situation occur. Also, the sealed cars will interfere with communication between the forward cars and the security details."

Summer nodded to herself. Those were the things that were going to make it easy for her to take the train out.

"There's nothing I can do about it," Gloss replied. "That's how it was put together by the higher-ups, and that's how we have to play it. Nobody knows what's on this train, and most civilians have learned not to mess with military cars. Get to your posts."

"Yes, sir!" Ross said, saluting and turning.

The man who was following her saluted and hurried after her. Summer watched them take up position on the platform between cars two and three.

The train lurched and started to roll forward, even before all the soldiers were aboard. A few had to leap and do assorted wriggling pull-ups to get aboard and hang onto their weapons at the same time. They rolled out of under the lights of the station, past the rusty barbed-wire fences and then through the station proper, gaining speed. The faces of hungry civilians flew past. Soon they were out of under the lights, and moving through the city's upper warehouse district. Summer stood up and sprinted across the tops of the cars, toward the caboose.

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"I think this is the coldest I've ever been in my entire life," Sergeant Denny Brosh complained, as he stomped his feet.

2nd Lieutenant Maria Ross nodded absently, her eyes roving over the darkness around them. She had a feeling something bad was going to happen. They only had to guard the train until it got past the last checkpoint outside Central. Then soldiers from the Northern battalion would take over, and she and Brosh and the rest of them could march back to base in the middle of the freezing, plague-ridden city.

"Too bad we can't open the cars," Brosh said. "It wouldn't be too bad if we…you know…spilled a few bags of rice on the way past the camps."

"It wouldn't be too bad until General Gran had you shot," she pointed out.

"Why are we even doing this?" Brosh muttered. "Half the people in the city are starving to death."

"Keep your mind on something else," Ross said. "Think about not freezing to death, instead."

There was a sudden muffled shout. Ross turned, rifle shouldered. She couldn't tell where it had come from.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

Brosh shook his head. "But I believe you did," he whispered, drawing his sidearm.

Ross strained her ears, trying to pick out any pattern of sound over the click, clack and chug of the train. They started around a curve in the tracks and she went to the edge of the platform and leaned out over the railing. The other cars tilted as they entered the curve, and she could see the edges of the platforms of the other cars. They looked empty. She leaned further, and without being asked, Brosh grabbed her belt to keep her from falling. She saw something pale on the edge of the caboose platform. She squinted as a puff of smoke from the engine blinded her. She leaned further still, and a passing streetlight clarified the pale thing. It was a limp, open hand hanging from a blue military sleeve.

"Damn," she growled.

Brosh pulled her back in.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Somebody took out the rear car," she whispered, pointing her rifle up.

Brosh was about to speak again when another shout came from the end of the train. There was a thud, but they had yet to hear a shot fired.

"We have to warn the forward car," Ross whispered. "We'll have to go over the roofs."

Brosh frowned, but nodded. Ross crawled up onto the railing of the platform and pulled herself up on top of car two. She pointed her rifle toward the rear of the train, as the wind whipped at her clothes. Brosh struggled to pull himself up. She looked down to see if he needed help. When she looked back up she caught a blur of motion on the roof of car five. It was gone faster than she could blink. There was another muffled yell. Brosh finally made it onto the roof.

"I think I saw them. They're fast. They're behind car four now. Get to the forward cars and warn the engineer. Tell him to radio Central for help."

"Are you…"

"Go!" she hissed.

Brosh obeyed. He knew she was a better shot than he was. He crawled along the roof on his hands and knees, praying he didn't suddenly find some ice.

Ross watched the roof of car four. Whoever it was, they were fast and either weren't using firearms, or had very good silencers. She bit her lip, trying not to blink. It felt as if her rifle were freezing itself to her face as she tried to aim. There was a thump behind her, and for a moment she dismissed it as Brosh's scrambling. Then it felt as if someone were leaning over her. Without pausing to think, she lunged forward off the roof, dropping rather painfully back to the platform between the cars. She started to fall into the space around the couples and threw out an arm to catch herself. A shadow dropped towards her. The white clay mask told her it wasn't Brosh. With one hand she brought the rifle up and fired. If the thing wasn't coming down right on top of her, she probably wouldn't have hit it.

The shot took the thing right in the throat and blood splattered Ross's face. The thing landed on her. Her rifle fell from her hand and her other arm slipped. She started to slide backwards past the couple, and the top of her head dropped towards the tracks. A hand caught her belt and she was wrenched up. The world tilted and refused to right itself. It took her a moment to realize she was being held upside down by her belt.

Ross blinked, startled. The thing holding her wasn't particularly tall, and the wound in its throat was oozing red onto its patchwork clothes. Its clay-covered face was tilted down towards her, watching her with interest. It started to say something, but coughed up a few flecks of blood instead.

"hurk…hmmm….right in the vocal cords…" it muttered in a scratchy voice.

"Ross?" Brosh called from above. "Ross, there's nobody up there. Ross?"

The creature held Ross over the gap between cars. "Stay quiet, or I'll drop you," it rasped threateningly.

"IT'S A TRAP, BROSH!" Ross shouted at the top of her lungs.

The thing looked at her for a moment, and then rolled its eyes. It didn't drop her, though. Instead, it flipped her upright. The last thing she saw was a rather small fist coming towards her face.

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Summer made it back to the Hughes' house just before dawn. She had a fifty pound bag of rice on her back and a canister of coffee under her arm. She saw the lights on, and Al's silhouette moving back and forth past the living room window. She knocked on the door and he let her in, making squeaky noises of relief.

"They slept almost the whole night. I think brother's cough is getting better, but his fever is getting worse. And Elicia woke up once, but I got her to go back to sleep. Where did you get all that rice?" Al said.

"Fell off a truck," she answered, her voice still a little scratchy.

Unloading the train had taken longer then she planned. Alan, her jumpy and reluctant assistant, had refused to drive into the camps by himself, so she had had to go with him. Fortunately every one in the three camps they visited were more then willing to help unload the truck when they got there. There hadn't been time to bring everything to the camps, so she'd broken into a nearby warehouse and they'd made a few shorter trips to stash half the supplies there. Hopefully the military and other scavengers wouldn't find it. Alan had sworn up and down he would never say anything to anyone about it. And after he watched her rip the welded box cars open, he seemed to loose his ability to say anything coherent at all.

She planed to distribute the rest of the supplies to other parts of the city that night. It would take a while, since she had sent Alan and the truck back to the small time crime boss, Blake. She'd also sent along most of the stolen coffee, figuring he could sell that to make up for the gas she'd used and wear and tear on the truck. It wasn't like starving people needed coffee after all. Sleep deprived Slayers was another matter however. She hid her canister under the mop in the closet.

She felt exhausted. Usually she only needed sleep when she was injured, but now she didn't even have time to do that. She swallowed, feeling the tissue stretch around the bullet wound in her throat.

"Is everything alright?" Al asked.

"It's fine," she assured him.

Al helped her shove the bag of rice into the kitchen cabinet. They started a fire in the fireplace, since the gas had gone out again, making the oven into a two-hundred-pound paperweight. Summer warmed up a pot of chicken broth and threw in a few cups of rice. She and Al had argued about this a few days ago, and he had won. When the rice had absorbed the chickeny goodness, Al dumped it into a bucket and took it into the backyard, to feed the starving cats people had put out. Summer felt bad wasting food on cats when people were hungry, but then Al would get all worked up.

Once the cats were fed, Summer and Al went to work making breakfast for the humans upstairs and a few of the elderly people on the block, who had run out of supplies and weren't really up to scavenging for themselves.

"And today's menu, chicken broth with rice in it," she muttered as she popped open a few cans.

"How come you've never asked me what I look like?" Al asked as he fed wood into the fire under the pot. "Without the armor, I mean."

Summer wondered where that question had come from, but figured Al didn't have much to do besides think himself into corners when she left him alone to guard the Hughes house.

"Oh," she said. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

"Really?" Al asked nervously.

She nodded. "Yep. You're taller than Ed, which of course explains the insane height issues he has. You have brown eyes, dark blonde hair, and dimples when you smile. Oh…and a tattoo that says 'I love kittens' on your left bicep."

Al laughed. "No tattoo," he corrected.

"Oh sure, ruin my mental picture," she said.

"Does your family live in Central?" Al asked.

She shook her head.

"Do they live in a big house in the country?" Al offered.

"Sure," she said.

"With horses, and a big brother and a little sister. And you go to dances all the time?"

"You forgot the skating rink," she said.

"Oh yeah," Al said. "That too."

They sat for a quiet moment, lost in their own heads. Coughing from upstairs broke up their game of pretend.

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"What do you mean the train's been robbed?" General Gran demanded.

"Sir, it arrived at the first checkpoint completely empty," Lt. Colonel Gloss said. "The engineer was tied up in the coal car, which was also empty. He claimed the train was stopped and unloaded in the warehouse district. Then the robber stoked the engine again, released the break, and got out. "

"Where were the guards while this was happening?" Gran asked.

Gloss saw his life flash before his eyes as he answered. "All of them were found bound and unconscious in the forward car, Sir."

"And what do they say happened?"

"Most of them don't know what happened," Gloss said. "One of them says he thinks a woman in a mask hit him. Another said it was the Demon. Only one pair of guards put up even a token fight, Sergeant Brosh and 2nd Lieutenant Ross. Ross claims to have shot her attacker in the throat, but she believes her ammunition must have gotten wet, because the injury to her attacker seemed superficial."

"Have you tracked down the stolen goods?"

"Not exactly, sir. We have no evidence yet, only suspicions."

"Well?" Gran asked.

"There haven't been food riots in the slums or refugee camps today. We questioned several people. They claimed a truck came by and gave everyone who approached as much rice as they could carry."

Gran slammed a fist down on his desk, splintering the wood.

"Should we send out teams to search for the Demon?" the Lt. Colonel asked.

"We don't have the personnel to spare. Get Eastern Headquarters on the line. We're going to arrange a transfer."

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The rocking of the train lulled him almost to sleep. Through drooping eyes, Colonel Roy Mustang saw towns slip by, little clusters of orange rectangles in the black plains.

The call was unexpected, but as always, he was prepared. He was just finishing up his shift when the phone rang. Most of his subordinates had gone home for the day, except First Lieutenant Hawkeye, his sniper, who frequently used "practice shots" to keep him from sleeping instead of finishing paperwork. General Hakuro ordered him to accompany a train full of supplies to Central, and to remain there until he was "no longer required".

He'd frowned and grabbed his gear. Hawkeye had attempted to accompany him, but he ordered her to stay behind. He didn't look forward to using his alchemic attacks against the civilian population. People still looked at him darkly for what he had done to the enemy during the Ishbalan rebellion. He'd have to be very careful. If anything happened in Central under his command, there'd be no chance for promotion. Of course, that could be exactly why the higher-ups wanted him back.

"Sir?" called one of the guards, softly knocking on the door.

Mustang got up from his seat and opened it. After an exchange of salutes, the nervous soldier finally managed to state his business.

"Sir, we're fifteen minutes from Central, but there's a problem."

Mustang stared at the man, impatiently.

"There are people on the tracks, Sir," the man continued. "Some kind of civilian protest, just beyond the first checkpoint…"

"And I suppose the higher-ups would like me to remove them?" Mustang asked coolly.

The soldier gulped. "Yes, Sir. With minimal casualties, Sir."

Mustang gave the soldier a look that clearly said "get out of my way".

The lights of Central were just visible on the horizon. Icy wind ripped at him as he passed between cars. The air was crisp with cold, but not too humid, good weather for making fire.

The elderly Engineer was flanked on either side by military guards. He gave Mustang a hard stare as he stepped through the coal room.

"I don't care what I'm ordered," the old man said. "I won't mow nobody down."

"Of course not," Mustang said. "That's my job."

He slipped on his gloves, and crawled out the window of the engine car. The running boards were slick with ice, and it was an uncomfortable crawl to the front on the train. Coal smoke billowed over him. The rotating spotlight of the checkpoint washed over the train, the empty fields around Central, and finally over the crowd of civilians on the tracks, a hundred people at most, but they'd still be awfully hard to pry from beneath the wheels.

He planted a foot on the cow catcher and leaned around the front of the engine. The air pressure was almost blinding and the roar of the engine made him deaf. That wasn't so important. The taste and feel of the air was what mattered.

He snapped his fingers.

The explosion shattered the windows of the checkpoint station. Soldiers and civilians alike ducked and ran for cover as the sky above them burst into flame. The heat caused coats and hair to smolder. People searched frantically for the source of the explosion. He showed them.

Snap!

This time a chain of fire flew from his hand, snaking out ahead of the train. People leapt from the tracks, screaming and slapping at their clothes. He snorted. They were barely singed.

_Willing to get splattered and crushed, but afraid to burn._

The train roared through the checkpoint. A few stunned soldiers noticed him out on the front of the engine, and saluted as he passed.

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**Author's Note:** Don't forget to review! Next chapter…the Demon vs the Flame Alchemist!


	9. Chapter 9

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Cauterizing**

"I heard about the incident on the ride in," General Hakuro said.

"Incident, Sir?" Mustang replied.

"Don't play dumb, Colonel," the General replied. "There's no need to terrorize the civilians."

"I was rather under the impression there was, Sir," Mustang replied. "I doubt you called up the Flame Alchemist to keep the presidential offices warm."

"Indeed, we haven't!" called a cheerful voice from the doorway.

Mustang turned, suppressed a heart attack, and saluted. "Fuhrer President, Sir!"

"At ease, Colonel," the leader of the military said. "You've been briefed on the situation?"

"Yes, sir," Mustang said.

"Well I'm going to add something that isn't in the official record. I trust you can keep it that way?"

As he spoke, a dark expression passed over the Fuhrer's face.

"Of course, Sir," Mustang said.

"We're having a bit of trouble with a particular vigilante. Two months ago I had one of your subordinates, the Fullmetal Alchemist, track her down. He found her, and claimed she was simply a disturbed individual with an overzealous sense of civic duty. For a while we tolerated her, because she was active mostly in the refugee camps and slums, but the day prior to your summons, she robbed a military transport of almost six tons of rice and other food supplies destined for the northern front."

"And you wish for me to apprehend this individual?" Mustang asked.

It seemed more like detective work than something you'd need an Alchemist for. He wished that Hughes had answered the phone calls he'd made, but the Court Martial office seemed abandoned.

"If possible, we would like this vigilante taken alive, but better dead than on the loose, do you understand?" the Fuhrer asked, face suddenly dark.

Mustang nodded.

"Good!" The Fuhrer said. "I believe General Gran has provided us with what he assures me is a foolproof plan!"

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Mustang stood on the sidewalk as the next man was dragged from the apartment building. The man had a split lip and a dazed expression. He was pitched face first into the back of the prison truck. Mustang put his hands in his pockets, watching the crowd gather. It was taking longer than he expected. He supposed many of the usual troublemakers were too sick to come out and riot. There were shouts of objection as the next man was brought out. He was obviously infected with the plague. A woman in a bathrobe was half-carrying him to the truck, at gunpoint. She must have been drafted because the soldiers were afraid to touch the sick man. Mustang held up a hand before the man could be loaded into the truck.

"How long has he been ill?" he asked the woman.

"A week," she answered through chattering teeth. She looked too scared to lie.

Mustang looked over the list again, finding the sick man's name: Andrew Walsh. The man was accused of committing a crime three days ago. He knew most of the people they were taking in couldn't have done what they were accused of, but the vigilante they were trying to draw out, the Demon, was drawn to crowds, especially irate ones, according to Gran. Mustang frowned.

"Put him in the car over there," Mustang ordered, pointing at the car he'd been assigned for personal transportation. "All the sick ones go in that car, and turn the heat on," he added.

They had filled two prison trucks before the crowd really got going. He'd been hearing the mutters of "dogs" and "motherless bastards" work their way up to "we should show those bastards" and "they think they can get away with this." After an hour, they were finally working up to shouts. He looked to the roofs, where the snipers and lookouts had set up earlier.

He went over the plan again. It was a bad plan, basically designed to go wrong. They would "inspire" the public to object, by bringing in suspects in the recent train heist. When the Demon was drawn to the uproar, they would take her into custody as well. And what would he do if the public "objection" turned into a riot? He fought the urge to sigh. It would take a miracle to get out of this without frying or shooting half the civilians present.

His radio buzzed and he raised the earpiece. The metal was so cold it felt like it was burning the side of his face.

"Position 4. We've spotted someone in a cloak and hood, moving through the crowd. They're being given a wide berth. It may be the target. Permission to open fire?"

"Wait until they've cleared the crowd," Mustang ordered.

"But sir-"

"Wait until they are clear of the civilians," he repeated.

He could see the cloaked figure now, stopping to talk to some of the louder members of the crowd. The figure would point away and the shouting person would point toward the line of troops. The process was repeated over and over. Apparently the person in the cloak was trying to get the mob to disburse, without success. Perhaps they weren't the Demon after all. He expected a vigilante hero to hold more sway. Even as he watched the cloaked figure, his eyes were drawn to motion at the front of the crowd. A rock sailed towards him, landing a few feet short on the slushy pavement. Another rock and another sailed towards them. The guards raised their guns, but Mustang held up his hand, indicating they should hold fire.

He was about to startle the crowd with a little explosion when something very large came sailing out of the crowd, landing halfway between the soldiers and the mob. The cloak fluttered away, exposing a rather diminutive woman with her hands on her hips, her back to the soldiers.

"EVERY ONE QUIT BEING STUPID!" she bellowed. "YOU WANT TO GIVE THEM AN EXCUSE? GO HOME! YOU HAVE ROCKS. THEY HAVE GUNS, IDIOTS!"

She turned a bit to glare at Mustang and his troops. She was a little over five feet, covered from head to toe in a patchwork suit, with a scarf hiding her hair. Her face was obscured with white clay, with something dark smeared around her eyes. In her ridiculous costume, she didn't look like much of threat, more like an escapee from the circus. Something about her was dangerous, though, and she had just cleared a thirty foot jump from a standing start. He supposed she could have some sort of automail augmentation, as well as armor. It would explain the rumors that she was bulletproof.

He supposed now was as good a time as any to test that. He turned his hand, giving the signal.

The snipers fired. A bullet traveled straight through the woman's right shoulder. Blood spattered the snow, but she didn't fall down, or even sway. Instead, she turned smoothly and made an obscene gesture with a perfectly functional right hand. Another bullet hit her in the leg and more blood splattered. Suddenly, she wasn't there anymore. He heard a shout from a roof across the street and turned just in time to see a sniper get his head cracked against the chimney he was sheltering behind. She picked up the man's rifle and snapped in half.

Mustang frowned. The Demon moved to the edge of the roof, and leaned over to yell at the mob again.

"GO HOME, YOU IDIOTS!"

He snapped his fingers and a jet of flame blasted towards the crouched figure. The crowed howled in outrage, but a moment later they were cheering. Mustang turned as they did. The Demon was now on the other side of the street. She had something in her hand. Her arm jerked and the object came flying at him. He started to bring up his hands, but he was too slow.

PAFF!

The snowball exploded in his face, sliding down the inside of his collar. He coughed as flakes rushed up his nose.

_A snowball? A god damn snowball? _

PAFF! PAFF! SPLAT!

The last snowball was mostly slush and it melted through his gloves as he brought up his hands to shield his face. He looked down at his gloves, fighting the urge to curse. The ignition cloth was soaked. He wouldn't be able to start his own fires. He started to reach for the spare gloves in his pocket. There was a shriek from the crowd and he had an instant to process that the Demon was running up the street towards him, dragging a woman behind her by the collar of her coat. Then a foot was coming at his chest.

The blow knocked all the air out of his lungs and he stumbled back, reaching for his sidearm instead. There was another blur of motion and something clamped down on his ankle, pulling his leg out of under him and up over his head. Before he even managed to fall over he was lifted up into the air as the Demon leapt. He wrapped his arms around his head as it was the only thing he could think to do. His elbows cracked painfully against bricks and the world twisted end over end, but at least it wasn't his skull.

His stomach attempted to jettison its contents, but he swallowed and fought everything back down. Or back up more accurately, as he was hanging upside down by his ankle, over the edge of a sixth story roof.

"WHO THINKS THEY CAN FLY?" the demon shouted, swinging her hostages over the sixty foot drop.

Mustang tried to reach for the gun in his belt, but his heavy winter coat had slid up over his arms and he had to struggle against his clothes and his spinning head.

"NOBODY?" the Demon shouted. "OK! WHO WANTS TO GO HOME AND TELL THEIR KIDS NOT TO JOIN GANGS?"

There were shouts from the mob, demanding to know whose side she was on. The Demon ignored them and shook the civilian woman she'd snatched from the crowd. The woman shrieked pitifully. The mob began to drop their rocks and bottles.

"SCOOT, PEOPLE!" the Demon ordered. "YOU IN THE GRAY SCARF! YOU WANT TO ENJOY THE VIEW FROM UP HERE? MOVE YOUR BUTT!"

Since about half the mob was wearing gray scarves, the crowd dispersed with amazing rapidity. When only a few stragglers and the unwavering line of soldiers were left, the Demon swung the woman around and set her down on the roof. The woman took a few staggering steps to get her balance, and then took off running towards the fire escape.

The Demon looked down at him. He could feel her hand digging into his ankle. It was a flesh and blood hand. He'd had his wrists bruised by his grabby, automail-wielding underling, Fullmetal, enough times to know the difference. His eyes were drawn to a red scrap of fabric sewn into the vigilante's suit. It looked as if it had come from Fullmetal's coat. He looked next at the hole in her shoulder where the sniper had nailed her. There was a bit of blood on her clothes, but nothing else. The Demon gave him another shake, as if she didn't think she had his full attention.

"Any chance you can get these idiots to go home as well? We both know the train was all me. This stunt is unbecoming of an officer or something," she said.

Mustang's hand found the trigger of his gun. He didn't bother to pull it out of the holster. He flicked the safety off and fired. The bullet struck the bricks near his head, but that didn't matter. The muzzle flash did. The flames that escaped the barrel as the gunpowder burned expanded into a huge cloud of fire as he manipulated them with his alchemy. He swung his gloved hand around, directing the flames toward the woman holding him. She had an instant to look surprised before the flames enveloped her upper body. She dropped him.

The side of the building rushed past his face and his hands scrabbled against the bricks, tearing his gloves and bending back his fingernails as he tried to catch hold. His hands caught a window ledge and it felt like his arms were being ripped from their sockets. He held on, jerking to a stop, two floors closer to the street. He dangled for a moment. His boots slid against the wall as he pulled himself up. Below him, soldiers were calling up inane questions.

"Do you need help, sir?"

"Should we get a rope?"

"Should we call for backup, sir?"

He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, dragging himself up. He got his right elbow and forearm onto the sill, balancing precariously. He raised his free arm to break the glass. A hand clamped down on his wrist.

A belated warning rose up from the soldiers on the street. He looked up into the Demon's face. She was hanging above him, gripping the brick surface of the wall with her free hand, and digging in with her toes like some unnaturally large lizard.

Her face looked like an overdone ham. The black crumbling surface was split revealing pink muscle and the edges of bones. Her eyes were foggy and wrinkled from the heat, but she looked right at him. Her face was split in a wide grin, because the skin had shrunk and pulled back in the heat, preventing her from closing her mouth. Steam rose up all around her.

Mustang couldn't seem to think. He'd seen bodies burned that badly in Ishbal, by him or artillery or fuel fires. Really the only common thread they had was that they were dead. She lifted him away from the windowsill. He couldn't move. He'd had nightmares like this. Again, she dropped him.

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Maes Hughes knew it wasn't really something to be proud of, but he couldn't help but feel a little triumphant. He'd managed to crawl to the bathroom under his own power, and in near-total darkness as well, since the power was out, and he didn't trust himself to carry a candle. Sure, his head was spinning and the sink might as well have been Mount Drachma, but he'd made it. It was a sure sign of his returning health. He finished up and was leaning against the tub, mustering the energy to crawl back to bed when the smoke reached his nostrils. For a moment of room-tilting panic he thought the house was on fire.

Then a scorched and shambling figure pushed open the bathroom door. He didn't have his glasses, but he thought he recognized Summer. She seemed to be wearing black face paint instead of her normal pale clay. She went right past him to turn on the tub. The water was freezing cold since the gas was out. She flopped into the tub, fully dressed in the odd patchwork suit he'd heard she wore when she was out looking for trouble.

"What is it?" Hughes asked, trying to fight back the cough the smoky stench was inspiring.

She didn't seem to hear him. She just lay there as the water rose up around her and then over her head, coming to the edge of the tub. He leaned over and turned off the tap before it could flood the floor.

"Summer?" he asked.

She surfaced, splashing him.

"I don't think I care much for your friend," she rasped.

Hughes leaned closer, squinting. Her face wasn't painted. It was burned.

_Roy, what the hell did you do?_

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**The Next Day…**

Mustang trudged through the melting snow. His broken arm had earned him a dressing down from General Hakuro and a day to recuperate. He wasn't able to borrow a car, so he walked to Maes' house. No one in the Central offices had heard from Hughes in almost a week. Someone had called in to inform personnel that he was sick, but they didn't have any other information.

Mustang looked at the cast on his left arm as he walked. He probably would have ended up with a broken neck if two soldiers hadn't stretched a trench coat between them and broke his fall with their makeshift net, Ross and Bross… Brash… something like that. He looked up at the street signs, and turned a corner. He was a bit surprised to see Alphonse Elric pulling the front door off of a house. He stopped for a moment to watch as Al whipped out a piece of chalk and scribbled a transmutation circle onto the cracked wood. There was a flash of light and the door was made whole again. Al put the door upright and scribbled another circle around the bent hinges. When the door was hung properly, he turned toward the street and gave a squeak of surprise that did not go at all with his seven-foot-tall armored form.

"Colonel, Sir!" Al called excitedly.

The suit of armor hurried towards him and bowed formally.

"Hello, Alphonse," Mustang said, his eyes drifting back to the door.

"Looters broke in last night. We scared them off," Al explained.

"I take it Fullmetal is here as well?"

"Yes sir," Al said. "He's not doing very well," Al confessed, suddenly sounding like a scared little boy. "But Mr. and Mrs. Hughes are doing much better, at least I think they are."

Mustang nodded. He supposed Al was the only one left standing. A boy without a real body couldn't very well get sick. "Is it alright if I check on them?" he asked.

"The door's unlocked. I think everyone is asleep, though. I'll be in in a minute," Al said, pointing to a broken window in the house he was working on.

Mustang walked past a few more houses. The windows were all dark, but a few of the chimneys were producing smoke. He climbed up the steps and pushed open the Hughes' front door. He walked through the hall into the living room and stopped short.

There was a girl on her hands and knees in front of the fireplace. She was feeding bits of wood and paper into a struggling fire under a pot. Her rear end was sticking up in the air. It wasn't a bad view, really, but not the best position from which to carry on a conversation. A gust of wind came down the chimney and the fire died.

"Crap!" she hissed.

Mustang snapped his fingers and the fire explosively roared to life. The girl leapt back, muffling a scream and patting at her face over-dramatically.

"Who are you?" Mustang asked coolly.

The girl, who he now saw probably wasn't much beyond twenty, turned and raised the pot as if she planned to throw its contents at him, but seemed to think better of it. She was petite with fine features, intense green eyes, and small, delicate-looking hands. Normally, Mustang would have tried to sweet talk a girl with such obvious assets, but the moment he saw her, he didn't like her, and he was certain from her glare that the feeling was mutual.

"Well obviously I'm a looter who broke in and is trying to make soup," she said. "I heard you talking to Al, so he must know you. You gotta' be the fire guy from Eastern. Thanks for the help, dumb-ass. I didn't really like having eyebrows, anyway." She paused to glare into the pot. "Scorched," she announced. "I guess I can still feed this to Ed. He'll eat anything."

"Who are you?" Mustang repeated.

"Private Summer Summers, though maybe not. I haven't been in to work this month, so I've probably been fired."

"Private Summer Summers?" he repeated.

The front door opened again and metal boots clanged in behind him.

"Hey Al," the girl asked in a low voice. "What covers up scorched taste?"

"Uh….onions maybe?" the metal boy, with no digestive system, suggested.

"Onions, right."

She marched past him into the kitchen and got down on her hands and knees again. She started searching through the Hughes' cabinets. "I know I saw one yesterday," she mumbled.

Mustang looked past her and saw what appeared to be a military-issue sack of rice, along with far more medical supplies then could be legally obtained under current circumstances. Elicia was lying in a crib in the corner of the kitchen, but when she saw them come in, she started to stir.

"So I guess you met Summer," Al said, trying to make small talk.

Mustang nodded. Elicia saw the Colonel and reached out her arms for him. He went to pick her up, but suddenly Summer was in front of him with a hand in the center of his chest. It felt as if he had run into an iron post.

"Mouth open!" she ordered.

"What?"

"Mouth opened," she repeated. "The first stages are sore throat and swollen tonsils, so open your mouth. Elicia's not sick, and she's not going to get sick!"

Grudgingly he allowed her to inspect his throat. After a few minutes of intense peering she gave him a little shove towards the sink.

"Wash your hands, with lots of soap, for at least a minute," she demanded.

Again he obeyed, wondering where the bossy girl had come from. As he washed, he watched the girl pull an onion from beneath the counter. She started to chop it up, pausing every few moments to shoot him dirty looks.

"What happened to your arm?" Al asked.

"I fell," Mustang answered.

He looked at the girl again. She was smirking. He dried his hands and picked up Elicia.

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Maes Hughes was having an unpleasant dream about his house burning down, when someone shook his shoulder. He peeled his gummy eyes open and wondered if he was psychic.

"Hey Roy," Maes mumbled. "Heard you were back in town."

Mustang raised an eyebrow as he set a tray with two bowls of soup down on the nightstand.

"Who did you hear that from?" he asked.

"Summer told me there was some kind of riot yesterday, involving the military in the Greenview slums. She said some nut job Alchemist was shooting fire," Maes said. "Who else do I know that fits that description?"

Mustang snorted. Hughes watched his friend fiddle around with the tray of soup. He knew he was working his way up to a question.

"So where did you find that Summers girl?" Mustang asked.

He was trying to sound casual, but Hughes could tell he knew something was off.

"She's the daughter of a friend of a friend of somebody in Gracia's family. You'll have to ask her when she's feeling better. We hired her as a babysitter a few times…and, well…now she's babysitting all of us," Hughes finished.

Mustang gave him a look that clearly said 'I don't very much believe you.'

"You seem to have quite a few…un-prescribed medications and supplies that look like they came from a certain robbed military train, in your kitchen," Mustang commented.

Maes frowned and rubbed his eyes. Gracia stirred slightly in the bed next to him, and mumbled something that might have been a greeting. She didn't really wake up, though.

"Roy," he said tiredly, "Please just leave it alone."

"There's something wrong with that girl," Mustang warned.

"Different isn't always wrong," Maes said. "Do I get any soup, or is it just for stirring?"

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Summer kicked the frame of Ed's bed and he rolled over, grumbling. She'd drafted Mustang to serve the Hugheses lunch, so this meal she only had to worry about one person coughing soup all over her. She had a lot to do that day, and the presence of her new least favorite person wasn't going to make it any easier. She still had to scrub out the bathtub, where she'd spent most of the night soaking and peeling off burned skin. And she thought soap scum was bad. It looked like she'd tried to make jambalaya in there.

She hadn't been able to hunt for the shape-shifter at all, or look for a sword. She frowned and kicked Ed's bed again.

"Wakey wakey short stuff. Soup's on!" she declared.

"Not short," Ed growled, peeling an eye open.

"Your boss, the firebug, is here," Summer mentioned. "You totally have my sympathy."

Ed raised an eyebrow and rubbed at his crusty face. "Most of the girls at Eastern headquarters are falling all over themselves to impress him," Ed said.

"Is there some sort of degenerative eye disease going around Eastern?" Summer asked.

Ed laughed and then started coughing. His face turned red and he started to fall over as he wheezed and gasped. He didn't pass out this time, though. Summer thought that was a good sign. She handed him a glass of water and then a handkerchief to wipe his streaming eyes.

"Sorry," she said.

"Not your fault," he wheezed. "My own stupid fault…for a stupid book…" he trailed off.

"I'm sure I did things just as dumb when I was your age," Summer said, suddenly wanting to cheer up her newest ally against the firebug. "Well, not for books. Books were never really my friends, maybe for makeup, or boys, or clothes, or boys, or to piss off my mom, or boys-"

"One-track mind," Ed muttered.

"Multi-track minds are overrated," Summer said. "Say Ed, any idea where I can get a sword?"

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**Author's Note**: Happy not quite New Year! For those confused people, in this story Buffy, (aka Summer), was raised using human transmutation and magic, so she has some Homunculi aspects and defects as well as her Slayer powers, which is why she can get shot and fry without dying, as a normal Slayer would. She's still closer to mortal than the standard Homunculi are, though, so they have an advantage. Hope this clarifies things. Don't forget to review!


	10. Chapter 10

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Trouble Follows Me**

**The Next Day….**

The file room was locked, but there weren't enough personnel to guard it. A locked door is nothing to an alchemist, anyway. Mustang flipped through the "S" section, and found no mention of a Summer Summers. He was going to leave with renewed suspicions, when he saw the edge of something sticking out of between the file cabinet and the wall. It was smudged and dirty, but he couldn't tell if it was because the file was old, or because the space behind the cabinet was so filthy. Mustang absently noted the water marks on the edge of the pages. He wondered who had been so careless with it.

He flipped through the military history of Summer Summers. Her career was short, with a few reprimands for tardiness and back talking before she was transferred to Central, but nothing that particularly stood out, good or bad. No family in Central, and only a few distant relatives out in Melthith. There was no one he could contact easily, but then again, the file didn't make them sound worth contacting, anyway. The file spoke of an unremarkable person.

The file was also a forgery. It was a good forgery. It was a familiar forgery. He recognized Hughes' work. Mustang frowned. Why would Maes do this? And more importantly, why would one of the few people whom he trusted with everything, not trust him with this? This couldn't be official. Hughes might be called upon to move or hide a witness for the Court Martial office, but it was against all sorts of regulations to hide such a person within Military command, especially since that was the most likely place for the offender to be working.

It had to be something personal. The only personal reason he could come up with for hiding a pretty young woman, and risking all sorts of ruin to get her a job she probably wasn't qualified for, was a reason he couldn't equate with Hughes. The man was obsessively loyal to his wife, chasing off women who weren't actually hitting on him to begin with. Blackmail and threats didn't seem to be right, either. Hughes wouldn't have welcomed her into his home if that were the case.

Mustang put the file back, not in the cabinet, but behind it, where he had found it, and left the room. He headed toward General Hakuro's offices, though he was still early for his morning meeting. His walk was slow and calm, but it was acted more than felt. Something about the empty hallways made him wary.

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Al looked at the woman standing over him, and tried to keep his nervous twitching under control.

"What do you need a sword for?" Al finally asked.

"Self-defense," she said, smirking slightly.

Al had numerous doubts. He knew she hadn't gotten on well with Colonel Mustang the day before, and the looks she'd shot the man hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Your brother said you could make one for me, and I found this to make it from," she said, brandishing a meter-long steel pipe. "And I have this," she said, handing him a piece of paper.

Al looked at the "blueprint", which may or may not have been drawn by Elicia. He supposed it could be a sword, or a streetlight, or maybe a long fish. The third time he flipped the paper around to make sure he had it right side up, Summer snatched it back, looking offended.

"I know I'm not a great artist, but it's a sword, pointy at one end, not at the other. Come on!" she said.

Al tried to think it all out. Summer was odd, but she hadn't done anything really untrustworthy. He knew she was much stronger than a normal person. If she wanted to cause harm, she wouldn't need a sword to do it. But he wondered what sort of trouble she'd get into if she had one.

"Are you sure you should be…" Al tried to start again. "I mean do you…uh…know how to fight with a sword?"

Summer gave him a rather frightening smile. She picked up the steel pipe she'd brought for him to transmute, lifting it as if it weighed nothing, and took up a guard position that Al had seen soldiers use when training with sabers. She went through a blindingly fast series of lunges, slashes, and retreats, finally stopping with the end of the pipe pressed just under the chin of Al's helmet. Even though he didn't have a body to stab, he shook slightly.

"That's kind of scary," Al said.

"Thanks!" Summer declared.

Al wished he could sigh as he started drawing out a transmutation circle in chalk on the kitchen floor. The act calmed him as he focused on the lines of the inner array, and planned out how he would direct energy through it. He could have drawn it faster, but he didn't.

"You been doing this Alchemy thing a long time?" Summer asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Since our dad left," Al said. "I guess I was three, maybe four. I don't remember really much about him, but we had his books, and as soon as Ed could read he got into them and shared them with me. I think…maybe it would have been better if we never found them. Alchemy is how I ended up like this."

He wanted to warn her away from the subject, but his words seemed to focus her further.

"But you know a lot about it?" Summer asked.

Al nodded. Summer picked up a pen, and drew out a symbol on the back of her sword/ fish/ lamppost picture. It was the ouroboros, a winged serpent eating its own tail. Al had seen it before, in theoretical alchemy involving immortality and human transmutation.

"Why…that?" Al asked nervously.

"You know I'm not normal," she said, quietly. "That has something to do with it. I know it does. If I knew what it meant…maybe I could figure out how I ended up…here."

"This wouldn't move you anywhere," Al said.

"Would it erase someone's memory?" she asked.

"I don't think so…" Al said.

"What does it do? Please tell me!"

"It's…something to do with immortality," Al said.

She froze. "How?"

"It's…well, from what I've read…it isn't really part of a transmutation, it's the end result, or a symbol of the end result, a snake eating its own tail, an endless cycle, eternity…"

"So you don't just stamp this on somebody and they become immortal?"

"No," Al said. "It's just a symbol. I don't really know what it means without context. Ed might-"

Summer shook her head sharply. "Could you not say anything to him about this?"

Al made a disturbed noise. He didn't keep secrets from his brother. He didn't know if he could. But then again…Ed kept things from him. Ed was the one who got to look up whatever he wanted to in the State Alchemists' library. He talked to the Colonel about things and Al wasn't allowed in the room. He knew his brother wasn't telling him everything, probably trying to protect him, but it still bothered Al. If he could find things out on his own…maybe Ed would tell him more, in exchange or something.

"For now," Al said.

Summer nodded solemnly.

"So this symbol, it ends up on someone after they're immortal?" she asked.

"I don't really know. I mean…to make someone immortal you'd need a tremendous source of energy…" Al stopped speaking, and stared at her. "Does this have anything to do with the philosopher's stone?" he asked.

"I have no idea what that is," Summer said.

"It's the ultimate alchemic amplifier," Al said.

"What's it for?"

"Everything!" Al said. "If we can find it, or find the formula to make one, Brother can get his arm and leg back, and I can be normal again."

"And a rock is really going to do all that?" Summer asked.

"The stone lets you get around the rules of equivalence," Al said. "We wouldn't have to give things up."

Summer frowned. "It sounds too good to be true."

"Maybe," Al said. "But we can't just give up. It's what keeps us going."

Summer nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if I find it, it's all yours."

Al pressed his hands to the outside of his transmutation circle and blue light rose up around him. The pipe in the center melted and reformed. When the light faded, Al picked up the blade and held the pommel out to Summer. She swung it around a few times, testing the balance.

"You're going to be careful with this, right?"

"Of course I will," she said.

She swung the blade around again and sliced off the bottom inch of the curtains on the kitchen window. Al got a bad feeling in the pit of the stomach he didn't have.

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She hunched into the shadows watching the distant figure leap across roofs. Her vision tunneled in, recognizing the green hair and purple outfit as much as the way he moved. She darted after him, buildings flashing past. Envy, he'd called himself. She supposed that was a fitting name for a shapeshifter. He stopped suddenly and she skidded to a halt as well, ducking into shadows as he turned around, still a quarter of a mile ahead of her. Apparently unable to spot her, he took off again, and so did she. She saw where he was going now and she wasn't terribly surprised. The lights of Central Headquarters loomed in front of them. She smiled a bit, and purposely undershot her next jump. Her feet bounced against the side of a building, she flipped and landed running on the cobble street.

There were still a few people out, since it was only six-thirty in the evening, and a few of them waved or cheered as she passed. One man even shouted "nice sword". Usually she would have avoided attracting such attention, but she didn't think the creature she was pursuing was paying that much attention. She leapt over three fences, once narrowly missing a guard dog before finally coming out on the wide street that separated Central Headquarters from the civilian buildings. Envy would have to come down and run across or make a jump of well over a hundred feet.

Summer paused for a moment, catching her breath, her eyes roving along the edges of the roofs. Her hand went to the weapon strapped to her back. It had a heavy pommel, but no guard. Summer liked the design for some reason, though she knew it wouldn't be much good for fencing. That wasn't what she needed it for, anyway. She saw movement and a dark shape dropped down the front of a closed deli. He landed in the shadows, but a purple flash of light gave him away. A man in a lieutenant's uniform stepped forward a moment later, marching toward the military building. Summer grinned, feeling her clay mask crack, and charged.

Her footfalls were silent, but as she pulled the sword, the blade rasped across the sheath and Envy turned, angry surprise on his borrowed face.

"You again?" he growled, ducking as the sword slashed over him.

"Me again," Summer said, lunging in. "Me always. If you would just lie down and die, I wouldn't have to bother you."

"This time _you _die!" he said.

"Gee, I've never heard that before!" Summer said cheerfully, swinging the sword again.

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It had been a bad day, and a long day, and for some reason, nobody but him wanted it to be over. Mustang frowned at the men on the other side of the table. He was the lowest-ranking officer there, or maybe only the least popular. Colonel Archer was a few seats down, but he wasn't getting the patronizing tones, the glares, or the orders to fetch more coffee.

The Fuhrer was absent, so the meeting couldn't have been that important. The Generals and Colonels had assembled at three P.M. to review the state of the military, and to "brainstorm" solutions to the new vigilante movement that was breaking out in Central. Mustang had already reported the movement consisted of a single vigilante, who was functioning with alchemic modifications. He had apparently been ignored. Four hours later, he was still being ignored. There was a thump and a bang from outside. The others were so wrapped up in their double talk and buzzwords, that they didn't seem to notice. Mustang stopped scratching transmutation circles into the plaster of his cast, got up from his chair, and went to the window to look.

"Are we boring you, Colonel?" General Hakuro growled, as Mustang pushed open the curtains.

He would have answered "yes" had not the need to move come over him. Just as Mustang threw himself backwards, the glass shattered and two figures tumbled in. One was a thin teenager in a tank-top and shorts, the other was the Demon in her trademark patchwork suit and face paint.

"What the hell!?" was all he could say.

The two lunatics ignored him in favor of hacking at each other. He leaned back in shock as the Demon stabbed the sword she carried through the chest of the purple-garbed teenager. Instead of falling and dying, the boy kicked his attacker in the shoulder. She tumbled backwards, pulling the sword out at she went. The boy spat up some blood, but the puncture wound sealed itself in a flash of what was obviously alchemy.

Guards rushed in, guns drawn, but before they could fire, the Demon caught the boy by the throat with her free hand, slammed him through a new window and dove out after him. Mustang didn't wait for orders. He hopped onto the sill, ducked under the shards still hanging in the pane, and jumped out the window after them. The two figures tumbled around the courtyard, kicking, gouging and hacking at each other. Mustang landed, not quite perfectly, in a drift of snow and hurried after them. Other windows and doors were pushed open, and more guards rushed into the courtyard as well.

Not everyone in the yard was ready for a fight, though. A group of women from the typing pool were apparently on their way home, and the combatants plowed right into them. The teenager grabbed a startled woman and pushed her in front of him, using her as a human shield as he closed with the Demon again. Mustang was only faintly surprised when the Demon dropped her sword a moment before it could run the innocent bystander through the chest. The hostage was slammed into the Demon and the two women tumbled backwards. The inhuman teenager charged after them, snatching up the discarded blade with a leer on his face.

Mustang raised his hand, preparing to fry the creature. A large hand closed over his, crushing his fingers and preventing him from making sparks with his ignition cloth glove. He hadn't heard the larger man's approach.

"Don't interfere, Colonel," General Gran growled at him, continuing to crush Mustang's hand, though he had already nodded in acknowledgement of the order.

The woman shrieked and tried to get out of the way, but her feet slipped and she fell back into the Demon's lap. She grimaced and closed her eyes as the blade flashed towards her face, but she didn't scream again. Instead, her attacker did. Mustang blinked, equally surprised at the outraged sound.

The Colonel tried to process the scene in front of him. The Demon's arms had come up around the woman, catching the business end of the sword between the heels of her hands, holding it so firmly that it had brought the charging teenager to a halt. Blood ran from the teenager's hand, which had slid up the guardless hilt and across the blade, severing a few of his own fingers. They were already growing back in a flurry of purple sparks.

"Run, lady," the Demon hissed at the woman in her lap.

The woman didn't need to be told twice, and ducked out of the awkward embrace to stumble across the yard toward the gathering of stunned military personnel.

"Our personnel are clear," Mustang said to Gran.

"I said, don't interfere," Gran growled.

Mustang didn't argue further. Instead, he filed the information away and shifted most of his focus to Gran, instead of the fight. Gran's face was almost a perfect mask of indifference, but he seemed unusually focused on the purple-clad teenager. His presence seemed to bother the General more than the Demon's did.

The battle in the center of the courtyard seemed to be picking up its pace, and Mustang looked back just in time to see the Demon chop off the teenager's arm right at the shoulder. He howled in rage and ran for the nearest building. He leapt, clearing the three-story roof in one leap. The Demon charged after him, easily achieving the same feat.

"After them!" Mustang ordered. "Everyone with a firearm! Now!"

The soldiers looked from him to General Gran warily, but the ranking officer didn't object this time. Mustang thought it was because he didn't expect them to catch up to obviously inhuman combatants, but he said nothing. One had to keep up appearances.

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The arm had grown back in less then thirty seconds. As they rushed across the city, Envy seemed to get more choosy in his direction of retreat. Summer remembered that day on the roof of Central and suspected he was heading for backup. She waited until he leapt the gap between the buildings ahead of her. Summer dropped over the edge, landing on the street. She sprinted to the next building and climbed the brick wall until she was hanging just below the edge of the roof. She held her breath and waited. She heard feet shuffle to a stop and smiled slightly. There was a long, silent pause as her prey stood motionless, listening for sounds of her pursuit, even as she listened for his return. He came back towards the edge, with cautious, nearly silent steps, but she could tell right where he was.

If he'd had a sword, he might have held it out over the side of roof and used the reflection in the blade to see if she was still there, but he didn't. Instead, he literally stuck his neck out. She let go of the brickwork with one hand and her sword flashed up.

His head and body parted ways, but both fell to the street below. With a pleased sense of accomplishment, she let go of the wall and hopped down after him just to make sure. What she saw made her curse. His head was in the process of growing back. With a growl, she lashed out and lopped it off again. Again it regenerated in a storm of spark. She was sure that would finish him. What else could she do? She frowned.

_You've got to get the heart_, a voice whispered in the back of her mind. She actually got a clear image of a face with this memory, though it was the face of a ventriloquist's dummy. Still, she couldn't think of anything else to try. She'd already stabbed him in the chest a few dozen times, and it didn't slow him down. She supposed something a little more extreme was called for.

She lunged forward and slammed her fist into his chest. His ribs splintered under the force of the blow and her hand passed through. Sparks were already flying as regeneration began. She could feel the heart beating and grabbed it, but as she tried to pull her arm back out, it stuck.

His hands snapped up, grabbing and trapping her limb, one hand above the elbow and one below. His annoying smile was fully regenerated as he started to bend the joint the wrong way. She chopped at him with the sword in her other hand, but he ignored the blows, bending her arm until finally the elbow snapped. She kicked at him, and he let go of her broken arm to grab at her sword. She finally pulled away, leaping backwards, her left arm flopping uselessly.

She knew it would heal, but she'd need to hold it still for at least an hour, and right now, it didn't seem like she'd get the chance. Envy charged at her and she hacked at him again. She leapt away and retreated, dodging blows until her back hit a wall. Her confidence had abandoned her. She didn't know what else to do. Just as she was planning to run for it, Envy's foot lashed out, slamming her wrist into the wall. The sword fell from her hand and he snatched it up before she could. He swung at her as hard as he could, but she dodged. The steel shattered against the bricks.

Summer kicked out, knocking the hilt from his hand. It bounced down the street and knocked over a trash can. She leapt away again as he grabbed up a couple of the bigger shards of steel and charged at her. His arm came up on her right and she dodged left, realizing a moment too late that it was a feint. His other hand came down and she saw light flash off the shattered bit of blade a moment before pain seared through her head.

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Envy watched her stumble back. Her eyes went unfocused. He waited for her to fall, but she didn't. He leapt forward, arm cocked to deliver a skull-shattering blow, but the movement caught her attention. She blocked his arm and her foot slammed into his hip, causing him to twist sideways and fall.

The metal in her head had clearly damaged something, but her coordination clearly wasn't it. He knew now that she was just another human. Humans could die. He had nothing to fear from her. She looked down at her broken arm, obviously confused.

"You did this?" she asked.

"Of course I did," Envy crowed.

She stumbled again. Envy charged at her, but she dove out of the way, rolling and scrambling up the side of the nearest building. He leapt after her as she fled. He lost sight of her, but her trail wasn't hard to follow. Droplets of blood spattered the snow every few yards. Even if he lost her, he could get Gluttony to track her down. Nobody could get away from that mindless eating machine once he had their scent.

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Someone was tapping on the back door of the Hughes' house. Al wrung his hands together. Summer had said she'd be back by dawn. The sun had come back, but she had not. She usually just opened the door after knocking, though. The tapping came again. He opened the back door, just enough to look out.

It was the Scrap Demon. He recognized her bizarre outfit despite the burn marks and filth. Her face was red instead of white, though, and after a moment he realized it was blood, rather than a new layer of face paint. There was a large piece of metal sticking out of the top of her head. It took him a long minute of staring to determine that it was a grisly injury, rather than a hair accessory.

"Hello," she said, her voice disturbingly familiar.

"Hello," Al said, awkwardly.

"Do I live here?" she asked.

Al stood in the doorway, shaking.

"I think you have the wrong…" he began.

"Ur!" Elicia shouted, as she toddled up behind the suit of armor. "Ur!"

Al was so startled, he nearly stepped on the little girl. He wondered how she had gotten out of her playpen.

"Ur! Ur! Ur!" Elicia repeated.

Al bent down to catch her, but Elicia rushed forward, and grabbed the Scrap Demon's pant leg. She let go a moment later.

"Sticky!" she declared, frowning and holding up bloody hands.

Al was nearing a panic attack, but the Scrap Demon did nothing as Al picked up the toddler and brought her to the sink to wash her hands. He looked at the woman on the back steps. She was watching him, blinking slowly, as if trying to process what she saw. He put Elicia back in her playpen and went back to the door. He peered more closely at the Demon's face, and through the layer of clay and blood, he picked out familiar features.

"Summer?" he asked in a small voice.

"Is that me?" she asked.

"Uh…I think so," Al ventured. "Maybe you should come in."

She did, and Al closed the door behind her. She wandered into the center of the kitchen and stood, apparently confused. Al reached for the phone, intending to call the hospital. He dropped the receiver as something thumped against the back door. A large shadow moved outside, blocking the sunlight that had been coming through the space beneath it. The steps creaked under its weight as it shifted around. He heard it snuffling.

"What is that?" Al whispered.

Summer looked at the door for a long moment; blood continued to run down her face and neck and land on the tiles. Finally, she spoke.

"I think somebody is following me."

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**Author's note**: Sorry about the long break between chapters. I was having computer issues. I dragged my computer into a field and beat it to death with a bat. Anyway don't forget to review. It helps me contain my rage!


	11. Chapter 11

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Chaos Passes**

Gluttony sniffed at the door, drooling on the steps. Envy could hear frightened whispers from inside the house, and maybe even a baby whimpering. Envy grinned. This was certainly going to be messy.

He heard a thump from one of the upper floors of the house. After a moment of frowning, he left his crouched position on the fence to investigate. He hadn't really expected the Demon to be from such a high-class neighborhood. And the route she'd taken to this place had been anything but direct. Maybe this was just the first house that had opened the door to her. If there was somebody important there, their Master would be pissed. There was another thump and he leapt up, catching the sill on one of the second story windows.

The curtains were open just wide enough for him to see through. The Fullmetal pipsqueak, Lust's favorite new pawn, lay sprawled on the floor. His feet were tangled in sheets and he struggled weakly to rise. Envy watched him collapse in a fit of coughing. Not only was the little snot a few hundred miles away from where they thought he was, he'd also managed to catch a plague.

Envy bit back a growl, but he couldn't control his rage completely. The windowsill splintered beneath his fingers. He wondered for a moment if he'd be able to confine Gluttony to just the first floor, but it didn't seem likely. Once he got started, it was impossible for anyone but the Master or Lust to call him off. Of course, it was always difficult for Envy to call him off. He sighed and jumped down into the yard. He was really going to enjoy gutting that brat when they didn't need him anymore.

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Ed finally managed to roll over and started to crawl across the floor of the bedroom. He'd felt something was wrong, and it had jolted him from his fevered sleep, but the door seemed miles away, and the stairs beyond, further still. He didn't give up, though. He sank his fingers into the carpet and pulled himself forward. The bedroom door sprang open, nearly slamming into his face. Hughes dropped to a knee next to him. Ed saw he had his gun in one shaking hand. The Lt. Colonel was sick, but apparently was much closer to recovery than Ed. Even so, Ed didn't think the older man was in any condition to fight.

"Do you know what it is?" Hughes whispered.

"No," Ed said.

"Stay here," Hughes ordered.

Ed started to protest, despite the fact that "here" was about as far as he could get, anyway. Hughes pulled the door shut behind him. Ed gritted his teeth and tried to follow, but his legs wouldn't hold him, and his shaking, sweaty hand couldn't get a grip on the knob.

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"Want to eat," a strange voice muttered on the steps behind the house.

Elicia was crying, but Al didn't know what else to do. He opened the cabinet under the sink and stuffed the toddler in. She cried louder, and he knew the hiding place wouldn't do any good. He searched the cabinets around them, finding an old piece of taffy behind a can of peas. He shoved the sweet into the little girl's mouth and she bit down. She gurgled around it, but the taffy had glued her mouth mostly shut. He closed the cabinet doors and prayed she wouldn't choke.

Al shuddered as he listened. There was another voice in the yard now, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. The whiny voice by the door was clear enough, though.

"You said I could eat them!" it said.

Al looked at Summer, who had turned to watch the door, a strange grin on her face. She blinked rapidly as blood dribbled into her eye.

"We're going to fight," she said almost dreamily.

Al, shuddering, took up his basic guard stance. His hands wavered. _Maybe I should try to reinforce the door with alchemy, instead_, he thought. But some deep instinct told him it wouldn't help. _Take Elicia and run_, a little voice told him. But he couldn't do that, either, not with the Hughes' and his brother too weak to move upstairs and Summer obviously out of her mind. He looked at her again, but she didn't seem to notice his anxiety.

"Who's out there?" Al begged in a whisper. "What's out there?"

"They're dead, already," Summer said.

Al couldn't tell if she was boasting or if she was expecting walking corpses.

"I Want to Eat!" the whiny voice insisted.

Al tensed as the door creaked under the pressure of the huge hungry thing.

"WANNA EAT! WANNA EAT!" it shouted, pounding on the thin wood with each repetition.

"I said no, you retarded sack of garbage!" the other voice hissed.

WHAM!

Al flinched at the sound of flesh striking flesh.

The blow was so hard the windows rattled and the thing on the back steps let out a dog-like whine. Al wondered why they were fighting, but he felt strangely grateful to the other thing in the yard. There was more low hissing, but Al couldn't make out the words. With a final whine, the shadow at the door vanished. Al expected to hear the back steps creak, or maybe the fence, but there was absolute silence. Al crept to the kitchen window, and found the yard empty. He didn't even see footprints.

"They've gone," Summer said, slumping in bizarre disappointment.

Al looked at the scrap of metal sticking out of the top of her head, and realized it was a bit of the sword he had made for her that morning.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Al asked.

"No, why?" Summer asked.

"So you can go to a hospital!"

"Hospitals are bad," she said.

"But you've got…you've got a…" Al waved his hand over his helmet, trying to indicate the broken blade protruding from the top of Summer's skull.

Looking rather confused, she reached up and felt at it, and then gave the shard of steel an experimental tug. Her expression went slack for a moment, and her hand dropped limply to her side.

"Summer?" Al asked, hoping his miming hadn't just caused her to die.

"Hu?" she asked, "Who are you?"

"I'm Al," he said.

"And I'm…Summer…"she said.

"Yeah," Al agreed uncertainly.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"You've got a thing in your head," Al said. "I think it's messing up your memory."

"Pull it out," Summer said.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Al said. "It might make it worse."

"It's fine," she said.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Al said, trying to come up with a convincing sentence, but failing to find even words.

Al grabbed the metal and tugged. The sound the metal made as it slid free made him wish desperately that he had a stomach so he could barf. Summer fell forward, face down on the kitchen floor. Al rolled her over, relieved to see that she was still breathing, despite the horrific amount of blood spurting out the top of her head.

The kitchen door burst open and Hughes staggered in, a handgun leveled before him. He looked around the kitchen. Hughes looked blearily from the body on the floor to Al.

"uh….uh…." Al stuttered, trying to find words that would fix this.

"What happened?" Hughes asked.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Al said again.

The cabinet under the sink burst open and Elicia stuck her head out, still chewing on taffy. Hughes jerked in surprise and nearly shot himself in the leg. The toddler looked from her father to the twitching girl bleeding on the floor, to Al. Her face took on a thoughtful expression, and after a few moments' contemplation, she started screaming.

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Ed was still on the floor when Al came to check on him, and the door once again came very close to rearranging his face. Al looked alright, though Ed thought he could see blood splattered on the upper part of Al's arms, but nowhere else, as if he had washed his hands but hadn't gone quite high enough. Summer was going to yell at him for that.

"What happened?" Ed asked. "What's…hack…going on? What…hack…hack…uggggggggh!"

Ed's questions petered out as he struggled to breathe. Al helped his wheezing brother get back into bed.

"Everything's fine," Al insisted.

Ed gave him a look that said "I don't believe you."

"Well, almost everything is fine," Al amended. "Some looters came over the back fence, and Summer… she… well… uh… she got hit in the head and it was pretty bad, but Mr. Hughes thinks she'll be ok."

Something was wrong with Al's story, but Ed couldn't figure out what.

"Are you calling a doctor?" Ed asked, surprising himself.

He didn't like Summer. She was annoying and bossy and called him "short stuff." But then again, she seemed to have the right idea about that bastard, Mustang.

"Mr. Hughes thinks she'll be ok," Al repeated.

Ed looked at his younger brother warily. "What's really going on?" he asked, feeling a twitch deep in his chest that told him another coughing fit was on the way.

"Mr. Hughes said not to say anything, because you might get worked up, so I'll tell you later," Al said.

Ed gritted his teeth, holding back a cough. "I'm already worked up, so just tell me! Hack!"

"The people who came over the fence, into the yard…I don't think they…I don't think they were normal," Al said.

"What…hack…do you mean?!" Ed demanded, in a raspy voice.

"I don't think they were human," Al whispered.

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Summer opened her eyes and saw the beams supporting the roof of the Hughes' house above her. That wasn't so strange, really. This was the only place she slept, but she didn't feel like she had slept. It felt like something had exploded inside her head. She raised her hand and felt along her scalp. Her hair was wet and there was a bandage. She ran her hand over her face. She wasn't wearing her face paint, but she didn't remember taking it off. She looked over and saw Hughes was sitting a few feet away from her nest of blankets. His face was sallow and he was sweating.

"How did I end up here?" she asked, though she theorized based on his exhausted appearance, that he had carried her.

"You don't remember?" Hughes asked.

She looked at him for a bleary moment and then shook her head.

"What do you remember from last night?" Hughes asked.

Summer looked to the vent at the far end of the attic and saw daylight pouring in. Wasn't it just after sunset, though?

"Summer, what were you doing last night?" Hughes asked again, this time sounding angry.

Summer tried to remember, but the inside of her head was filled with bright flashes, rather than information. She decided to just start with the previous day and work from there.

"I brought food around to the Andrews house. I mopped the kitchen. I fixed dinner. I got Al to make a sword for me…" she trailed off.

That was probably where it started to go bad, she realized. Hughes was looking even more upset.

"Why did you need a sword?" he asked tiredly.

"I thought maybe if I could take off its head, it would stay dead. I remember that working…before…" she paused for a long moment. "It didn't work, though. It broke my sword, and then it's a blur."

She remembered now. She'd been fighting Envy, and apparently she'd lost. She touched the top of her head again. Her skull felt solid enough now, so she must have healed alright.

"Stay dead?" Hughes asked, interrupting her.

"Those creatures…the ones I told you about…" she started.

She remembered trying to explain to him a week ago about the shape-shifting creature, but he only looked confused.

"Tell me again," Hughes said finally.

"Well, I was trying to tell you a while ago, but you were kind of sick then," Summer added. "I found this creature trying to kill some people. I fought it, but I couldn't kill it. I've stabbed it, run it completely through every which way, and cut off its head, but it won't die. It just gets right back up again in a bunch of purple light. It had a tattoo like mine, but without the stuff around the outside, and the center is a little different. I know it from somewhere, or at least things like it. When you found me, I was so messed up I didn't want to tell you that I remembered things like that. I thought I was crazy, but now, I know they exist."

Hughes closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. She'd never seen him look so worried. She wondered if he had found her half-dead in an alley somewhere. It didn't seem too likely, since he didn't look like he'd make it more than a block from the house.

"What happened?" Summer asked.

"You had a piece of metal stuck in your head," Hughes said. "You made it back here on your own. You knocked on the door, still in your costume, and Al let you in. Something followed you here. Al says there were two of them. He couldn't see them, but they were arguing about something, about whether to attack or not."

Summer felt her heart stop. "I…I have to go," she said, getting up off the floor and staggering towards the ladder.

"Sit!" Hughes ordered.

"If they know I'm here, you're in danger!" she said.

"At this point, I don't think that will do any good," Hughes said. "They saw you come in here. They'll think there is a link whether or not you stay."

"I…I'm sorry…I…" she couldn't finish her sentence. She slumped back on the pile of blankets.

The only people who had really given her a chance in this strange place, and she'd brought this down on their heads. She needed to find a way to kill those things before they could get near Hughes and his family. She needed to do it now. She started to get up again, but Hughes froze her with a glare.

"Summer, promise me you won't go after these things again, at least for a while. They're stronger than you, and…please, just wait until we figure something out."

"But I have to! If they know I live here, if they know you know…they'll be back."

"Summer, something about the situation this morning made them leave," Hughes said. "If we can figure out what it was, maybe we can figure out how to get rid of them."

"Alright," she said.

"Now, I need to know everything you know," he said.

Summer noted his resolute stare, and for a moment she saw another person sitting there, an older man with a high forehead and a tweed jacket. She blinked the image away and saw Hughes again, watching her with eyes sharp enough to cut to the bone. None of her B.S. excuses would stand a chance.

"I've only seen one of them for certain…" Summer began.

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Hughes was exhausted. He'd only been up for three hours and he felt ready to sleep for a week, and he knew it wasn't just from the disease. Undead creatures stalking Central, and they knew where he lived. And to top it off, one of them might be the Fuhrer's secretary. According to Summer, that woman gave off the same "creepy vibe" the shape-shifter, Envy, did.

Knock! Knock!

Hughes jumped, grabbing up his gun. He stumbled up from the kitchen table, nearly shooting himself in the foot in the process. It took him a moment to realize the knocking was coming from the front door, not the back. He put the safety on and slid the gun into the waistband of his pajamas at the small of his back, making sure his shirt was hanging over it. Slowly, he shuffled through the living room to get the door.

Through the peephole he saw a tall man in a military uniform on the front porch. The man looked rather bored as he shifted from foot to foot in the cold. He had a black trenchcoat on, so Hughes couldn't see the rank insignia on his collar or chest. Carefully, Hughes opened the door.

"Can I help you with something?" Hughes asked.

"Morning, Sir," the soldier said. "We had some strange reports of a woman with a head wound running through the yards on this street. We think she may have been involved in an assault at Central Headquarters last night. Did you see anything, sir?"

Hughes blinked. The man before him didn't look like anything but a soldier. He didn't act like anything but a soldier, but something about him was making the skin on the back of Hughes' neck crawl.

"I didn't know," Hughes said, finally deciding on a half-truth.

"Sir?" the soldier asked, leaning in a little intently.

"Just after dawn, a woman knocked on the back door," Hughes began. "I wasn't up then, but one of the kids let her in and they came and woke me up. She was covered in blood. She said someone hit her on the head and took her purse. We tried to call an ambulance for her, but she refused. I was trying to bandage her up when somebody else knocked on the back door. She took off like a shot out the front of the house, and was gone before I could get up from my chair. I went to look out the back door, but there was nobody there, either. It was pretty strange, but with all that's been going on the last few months…I didn't bother calling it in. We never even got her name."

"And what did this woman look like, Sir?" the soldier asked.

Hughes wondered if they'd seen Al let her in, and wondered again if this guy was one of them.

"She was about five seven, maybe eight, with a dark complexion," Hughes said.

The soldier looked at him for a long moment, but didn't challenge the statement. "Was she wearing anything unusual, sir?"

"She had a dark jacket and skirt," Hughes said. "She was pretty dirty too, but I figured it was from when she was attacked. Do you need me to give a statement at Central?"

"No, thank you," the soldier said, reaching into his pocket. Hughes tensed, but the man only took out a business card. "If you see that woman again, please call this number immediately."

Hughes took the card nodding. "Will do."

He looked at the number. It was a legitimate military line. The soldier nodded and turned away. Hughes watched him walk away down the street. He didn't stop at any other houses on the street, and he hadn't written down Hughes' description or taken his name. Hughes found his hands were shaking slightly as he closed and locked the door.

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"The Fullmetal Alchemist is in Central," the secretary said as she laid a stack of papers on his desk.

"Strange that he hasn't checked in with us," Fuhrer Bradley said, as he looked over lists of personnel reported dead due to the plague. The alchemic research department had taken a disproportionate hit. He frowned, noticing several names were still missing.

"Apparently he has the plague, and is staying with Lt. Colonel Hughes from the Court Martial office," the secretary continued. "The Scrap Demon fled to his house after the incident last night."

Bradley looked up, mildly surprised.

"I think we'll have to pay the Lt. Colonel a visit," he said, smiling as he put on his sword belt.


	12. Chapter 12

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Best Defense is a Good Explosion**

Summer stared at the wooden beams, watching spiders crawl across them, building homes inside the Hughes' home. She'd felt the creature come to the front door an hour ago, and her body had tensed, but Hughes had spun a story and the thing left. It was probably the one called Envy, but she wasn't sure. She tried to focus her senses, to pick up the "otherness" that drew her attention to the shapeshifter in the first place. She reached back into her mind, searching for the cultured voice that sometimes hovered there with helpful information.

_If you would please pay attention to the exercise…it is of paramount importance that you hone your slayer skills…this is more important than nail polish and…and frilly dresses…_

She remembered that dress, white with an empire waist and the sheer sleeves. Every one said she looked great in it: her mother; the computer woman; the pale, dark-haired man; even the clawed, bat-like creature that had killed her.

Summer growled and pressed her hands to her eyes, pushing fashion aside. It couldn't have killed her. She was alive. The shapeshifter couldn't even have been the same kind of creature, since it had died when she impaled it on a broken table. Something about that was important, though.

…_they will invariably return to their nest…_

She frowned at the spiders above her. Envy had been headed for Central Headquarters, and that was where the strange woman in the green dress and the Fuhrer's secretary hung out as well. That couldn't be it, though. She'd been all over Headquarters, especially since she started "borrowing" medical supplies. They were probably just meeting people there, she concluded. And who in the military did she know of that dealt with those kinds of things?

Her mind went whirling back to the day she'd met Hughes, and the night the military had tried to have her disappeared. She remembered that heavily guarded building by the prison. She remembered the goon who ran it.

General Gran…

She nodded to herself. That's where she was going tonight. After all, she hadn't tried fire yet.

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A floor below, Edward Elric was staring up as well, though there were fewer spiders in his field of vision. He wanted to storm downstairs and demand answers, but he could barely raise his hand to push his hair out of his eyes, much less work his way across the room, through the hall, down the steps…

Even planning to move was making him tired. It didn't take much energy to think, though, and his brain just wouldn't be quiet. Al and Hughes were covering for something Summer had done. That much he was certain of. Now all he had to do was figure out what that had to do with undead cannibalistic creatures, plagues, and of course, Alchemy.

He hadn't been able to get all the information he wanted out of Al, but he had enough to be seriously worried. It all led back to Summer--annoying, cheerful, unstoppable Summer. Ed supposed he had come to respect her, and not just because she stuck with the ailing Hughes and himself despite the risk of infection. Her opinion of Mustang seemed spot-on as well. Respect and trust were not the same thing, though, especially where Al was concerned.

Ever since his little brother had fixed that typewriter for her at Central, she'd had Al wrapped around her little finger. Ed didn't mind that Al had made a friend, especially one who treated him like a human and didn't seem to pressure him about his armor, but maybe that was because she was something even stranger herself. Shou Tucker hadn't questioned Al. He had been friendly…and he was one of the sickest freaks to ever walk the planet.

Ed tried to change the subject in his mind, but it kept wandering back to the blood-spattered floor in Tucker's basement and the mutated corpse in the alley a few blocks away. He'd trusted Tucker, and it had cost a little girl her life. He couldn't afford to trust Summer, not when she had so many secrets. He was going to have to dig up everything he could find on her…as soon as he could move without her help.

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**Five hours later…**

Summer had washed the last of the blood out of her hair, fumbled into some of Gracia's old clothes, and was making dinner when the firebug showed up. She heard him walking up the steps. She recognized his tread now. She tried not to growl. She'd just convinced Hughes to go back to bed, but she knew they'd want to chat. She stirred the chicken soup again. Hughes had promised not to say anything to Mustang about her, and she knew that was cracking up the trust between the two men. She felt bad breaking up old friends. She wished Hughes had friends who weren't pyromaniac creeps.

"I'd trust him with my life," Hughes had said about the Colonel, "But I don't know if I'd trust him with yours."

She opened the front door before he could knock and did her best to suppress her scowl.

"Hughes is upstairs," she said, turning her back and walking toward the kitchen.

She was slightly annoyed when, instead of going to the second floor, he followed her.

"Where are Al and Elicia?" he asked.

"They're dropping off canned food at a couple of houses on the next block," Summer said. "I'll be heading out when they get back."

"Finally going home?" Mustang asked.

"Yeah, sure," Summer said, as she started stirring the soup again.

"And where is home, exactly?" Mustang pressed, leaning on the counter next to the stove.

The blue flames in the burners seemed to lean towards him.

"Why?" she asked. "Are you planning to visit?"

"No," he said. "I was just going through your file at Central, and that particular bit of information seems to have been omitted. If somebody in personnel were to notice that, it could get you into a lot of trouble."

The wooden spoon cracked apart in her hand. A splinter stabbed into her palm and blood spurted into the burner, hissing into foul steam in the next instant. Summer felt something rising up in her, something that usually stayed quiet in the presence of humans.

"Are you going to cause me **_trouble_**, firebug?" she asked, letting that something leak into her voice.

Mustang was still looking at her hand. She felt the splinter pop out as the wound healed. The color had gone out of his face and the flames in the burner were spiking erratically. She wondered if he recognized her voice yet. Hughes would be really upset if they got in a fight and burned down his house. Her plans to go hunting weren't changing, but her plans to return were. She was considering knocking him out when she felt them, two of them this time.

"Get the door, firebug," she said.

Mustang finally managed to meet her eyes. Sweat was running down his temple. He flinched when the knock suddenly sounded. Summer turned off the burner.

"You didn't see me here," she said. "Go answer the door."

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Mustang wasn't sure what was happening, or why he was obeying the pushy girl. He was, however, very sure how he felt, and he hadn't felt that way since he'd walked into a field during the Ishbalan campaign and the soldier marching thirty feet behind him had set off a mine. The tread of boots was suddenly silenced by an almost inaudible click.

The knock came a third time, and he wondered what the hell Maes had brought into his house. He opened the door. It took all the self-control he had not to gawk as Fuhrer Bradley walked right in, and turned sharply in the front hall, as if he were on the parade ground.

"Hello, Colonel Mustang," said the leader of their country. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Mustang got his brain functioning enough to salute. "Sir?"

"Oh, it's not a bad thing, Colonel," the Fuhrer said cheerfully. "Friends are what help keep us human, after all. You and Lt. Colonel Hughes have been friends since Ishbal, haven't you?"

"Yes, Sir," he said, as carefully as he could.

The Fuhrer strolled further into the house. Mustang swallowed as his mind got up to speed.

"I should warn you, Sir," Mustang said, "that several people in this household have contracted the plague, and you may be at risk."

"No need to worry about me," the Fuhrer said. "I think I had whatever this is as a boy."

The Fuhrer was smiling faintly as he looked at the photographs hung on the walls of the Hughes home, his uncovered eye drifting from one picture of Elicia to the next.

"What do you need, Sir?" Mustang asked. "Lt. Colonel Hughes is upstairs resting at the moment."

"I'm here to see the Fullmetal Alchemist, actually," the Fuhrer said. "There is a rumor going around that he broke the quarantine."

With that, the Fuhrer turned and walked toward the kitchen, as if he had been there before. Mustang was a little surprised to find Summer was gone. He hadn't heard the back door open, and she couldn't have come through the hall without him noticing. The only sign of her presence was the soup, still steaming on the stove. The broken spoon had vanished with her.

"Making dinner?" the Fuhrer asked.

"Yes, Sir," Mustang said.

"That isn't much food for…how many people?" the Fuhrer asked.

"It's only for Hughes, his wife, and Edward Elric, Sir," Mustang said. "Alphonse Elric and the Hughes' child are staying with one of the neighbors at the moment."

"So it's only the five of us here?" the Fuhrer asked, sounding amused.

"Yes, Sir," Mustang said.

The Fuhrer turned to look at him, and Mustang saw in his single uncovered eye the same predatory thing that had risen up in Summer a few minutes earlier. He was still waiting to hear the click. He wondered why he was covering for her as well. The Fuhrer's hand shot forward and Mustang jumped a little. The man had only picked up the pot of soup.

"Well, then, let's visit Fullmetal, shall we?"

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Summer stood stock still, balanced with one leg in her patched suit and the other on the edge of a piano bench they'd brought into the attic a few months ago. She'd felt two of them coming up the walk. She was sure of that. But only one set of footsteps entered the house. Her ears strained, trying to get her mysterious sixth sense in line with the other five. She turned slightly and tilted her head. The other one wasn't waiting on the porch, that was for damn sure. She could feel it getting closer, but all she could hear was the sound of melting snow dribbling through the gutters and off of the roof.

She stuffed her other foot into her costume and pulled it up. It would be bad to get caught here in her Demon guise, but it would be a hundred times worse to be caught here as Summer, especially since her fake paperwork in some file in Central had her picture on it. She wondered if they could sense her the way she could sense them. Silently she pulled the notebook, which held her attempts to organize her life, from beneath the pile of blankets that had served as her bed for the past six months. She shoved it into her waistband, and then rolled up the blankets, and stuffed them into a box. Her spare uniforms she stuffed into a pillowcase along with her shoes. She tucked it under her arm. In thirty seconds, only a slight gap in the dust on the floor showed that she'd ever been there.

The sound of running water was louder now and she reached up, pulling herself silently between the beams that supported the roof. She could no longer see from her hiding place, but the sound of water pouring through the attic vent was clear enough. There was a slosh and a splash, and in her mind, Summer pictured something coalescing and solidifying, and then there was the tap of high-heeled shoes on the wooden attic floor.

A woman walked into Summer's field of view. The woman looked left and right, but her bowed head never came up enough to see the occupants of the ceiling, neither Summer nor the spiders. Instead, the woman walked to the piano bench and sat primly down, focusing on the ladder, and the attic's trap door. Even in the dark Summer recognized the Fuhrer's secretary. Apparently she'd come up here in case someone fled to the attic.

Summer heard the firebug talking to the Fuhrer in the kitchen, and then on the steps. She heard them walk to Ed's room and then the Hughes'. She grinned slightly as the creature conducted its search of the house. She could hear Mustang's rather strained heart beating as he followed the creature around. It was louder than her own. Summer's eyes went back to the water woman. The drooping secretary was still watching the trap door. It apparently hadn't occurred to her to look up.

_They can't sense me, _she thought_. They're stronger and harder to kill, but they can't sense me._

She glared down at the secretary, so blithely occupying what used to be her space.

_And I look better in heels, too_.

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Ed woke and saw Fuhrer President Bradley standing in the doorway of his room, but he didn't really know what to do about it. He blinked a few times, but that didn't solve anything. Finally he raised his hand in a shaky salute, while attempting to sit up. He did not successfully accomplish either, but his flailing did prompt the man in the doorway to move. That probably meant he wasn't a hallucination.

"You've put yourself in grave danger by breaking the quarantine, and worse still, you've disobeyed a direct order."

The Fuhrer stood over him as he spoke and Colonel Mustang stepped into the room behind him. Mustang looked unusually ruffled. Ed's head was still swimming, but some fever-sharpened part of his mind told him to keep all of his attitude to himself.

"Yes, Sir," Ed said, as meekly as he could.

"Normally, you could be court-martialed for this, and execution would not be out of the question," the Fuhrer continued. "But I think you've learned your lesson," he said in a suddenly cheerful tone. "You wouldn't even think of disobeying orders again, would you, Fullmetal?"

"No, Sir."

"Fantastic! Well, I've probably left Central unsupervised for long enough!" the Fuhrer said. "As soon as Fullmetal is well enough to travel, you will escort him back to Eastern Headquarters. I trust you'll be able to come up with a suitable reprimand for your subordinate by then."

"Yes, Sir," Mustang said.

Ed watched them march back out.

"Where's Al?" Ed called, as Mustang passed through the doorway.

"He's giving out food down the block," Mustang said.

"Where's Su-"

"Elicia is with him," Mustang said before Ed could get out the other girl's name.

Mustang flashed him a tense look, which vanished as the Fuhrer turned to look back at them. Ed nodded and lay back, and Mustang pulled the door closed behind him. Ed saw a bowl of soup on the bed side table, and wondered how the hell it had gotten there.

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"Well that was…something else," Hughes said as he peered out the window.

Hughes watched the Fuhrer walk down the block away from his house. The Fuhrer had stopped by his bedroom for a brief chat before Mustang had escorted him back to the door. He'd received a warning to keep an eye out for the Scrap Demon in the area, and another piercing stare. Mustang slowly came back up the stairs to discuss the visitation with Maes.

"You don't need to tell me," Mustang said.

"Did he look in every room in my house?" Hughes asked.

"Just about," Mustang said. "He didn't go in the attic."

Hughes relaxed a little. "Where was Summer during all this?"

"She left," Mustang said. "Right when the Fuhrer got here, actually."

"Did she say where she was going?" Hughes asked.

"No," he said. "She just vanished. Literally."

Maes frowned, but didn't voice any of the concern that was flitting across his face.

"Maes, why won't you tell me what's going on?" Mustang demanded. "That girl is getting you into something I don't think you can dig yourself out of."

"I can handle it," Hughes said.

"The Fuhrer was just snooping around your house, Maes," Mustang said. "You remember what Bradley was like in the war, don't you? One moment he'd be talking to someone, the next their head is on the ground and he's polishing his sword. If he thinks you're up to something, he isn't going to just let you walk away."

"I don't expect he will," Hughes said after a moment. "But if you know…I don't think you'd survive the scrutiny. I hate to break it to you, Roy, but there are a lot of people out there who want you dead. What's going on here…I think they'd be happy to try to kill it along with you."

"They probably assume I already know," he said, frustrated. "They probably think you trust me."

Hughes didn't seem to have a response to this. Mustang sighed and got up. He was used to people turning on him. Promotions in the military were cutthroat, but through all of it, Maes had watched his back. He wondered how this had come between them, and his dislike of Summer seemed to slide up a notch closer to hate.

"Roy," Hughes said, just as his friend got to the door. "People don't stay dead like they used to."

Mustang turned to look at him, and he could tell from his face that it wasn't a joke, a hint, or a clue. Hughes had just told him the truth. His mind went to the Scrap Demon and the strange teenager fighting in the Central courtyard the night before, chopped, burned and crushed, and they just got right back up. Some people weren't staying dead, but he knew he and Maes weren't those kind of people.

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A suit of armor walked up the steps, with the little girl still balanced on his shoulder. He knocked on the door and a pale, dark-haired man with a cast on his arm opened it for him almost immediately.

Sloth shifted slightly in the rain gutters as the wind picked up. It wouldn't do for her to freeze in place and miss something. She'd been watching the Hughes' home for the last two hours. She was certain there was someone else inside, even though Bradley hadn't found even one physical trace of them. She'd come out of the attic and spoken to him briefly after he had left the house and gotten around the end of the block.

He'd seen lies in the faces of everyone in that household. He'd seen their nervous glances, as if they expected him to find someone in every room he glanced into. They gave everything away, except the person they were hiding. Bradley seemed to think it was because they weren't sure where they'd gone.

Between his eyes and Gluttony's sense of smell, it should have been a simple task to find the Scrap Demon, or the Slayer as she had introduced herself to Envy, but she vanished like a shadow whenever they thought they had her cornered. She was linked to Maes Hughes, though. Of that they were certain. All they really needed was patience.

There wasn't much these people could do at this stage of the plan, anyway. They were only human, after all.

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A mile away, perched on the roof of the Central prison, the Slayer smiled, and adjusted the dynamite in her backpack. She'd acquired it from Roger Blake, her favorite crime boss. She didn't even have to threaten him much to get it. She watched the building across from the prison. Two heavy military trucks had come and gone from that place in the last hour. Both had delivered nondescript crates. Summer shifted a little and stretched out her senses. She couldn't feel any of the creatures in the area, but something about the building wasn't right.

She'd seen the water creature leave the Hughes' attic and meet up with the Fuhrer. They were planning to watch the Hughes house until she showed up. They were going to regret that very soon.

A military car pulled up to the building across the street, and the gate was opened to admit them. From her vantage point she watched it pass through the courtyard and pull up to disgorge a huge, glaring man with iron gauntlets on his hands. General Gran marched into the building, and doors slammed behind him with a metallic clang.

As she leapt from the roof of the prison to the wall around the building, she heard a soldier complaining to his partner about having to guard the closed Lab 5 when all the pretty female research assistants worked at Lab 3. Summer smirked again, and wondered if they would be happy or sad when the building was gone.

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**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long wait. I have no excuse except laziness and writer's block. And…uh…alien abduction …sure…that happened. Please review! Only six people reviewed last chapter. It made me sad, and got me abducted by aliens.


	13. Chapter 13

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Lab**

Summer noticed the mirrors right away. When she saw the reflective surfaces, her first thought was _security cameras,_ but there were no such things. She inspected the mirrors, and saw that they were reflecting a view of the roof down a shaft into the building. _It's like a periscope_, she thought. She wondered if that actually existed. She'd have to ask Hughes about it, if she ever saw him again. She frowned. That would depend on what happened when she found Gran and squeezed some answers out of him. Or maybe she'd find a big cabinet marked "Secret Files on Immortal Monsters" before she blew the building back to gravel.

Her plans for nice explosions were derailed as she noticed the noise coming from the shaft. She stepped around mirrors, careful not to pass through their line of sight, and leaned down to listen. Screams echoed up to her. She doubted a normal person could have picked them out over the whistle of escaping air, but she wasn't a normal person, and from the strange timbre of some of the screams, she doubted the people in pain were, either. She leaned further still, slowing her breathing and pulse to cut down on background noise.

"…please stop…" one voice begged. "…let me die…" another shrieked. The other voices were less articulate, but equally desperate. Her stomach was turning. For a moment she considered just lighting the dynamite and dropping it down into the heart of the building. But that wouldn't help those screaming people. It would only help her, and quiet the voices that were now making her twist with guilt.

_This is the place they were bringing me to_, she thought, _All_ _those months ago, when Hughes found me. And all that time, there have been other people in there, suffering because I didn't want to face this place. I was so wrapped up in my own crap I didn't think about it once I was away and hidden. _

The realization almost made her flee. She thought of regrouping, of going back to the Hughes house, of going anywhere to get away from this…

_No_, she thought suddenly. _I'm here now, and now I can do something about it. Besides, if I ran now, they'd take away my superhero license._

The mirror shaft was too narrow for her to climb down, even if it wouldn't immediately give her away to whoever was monitoring at the other end. She heard whistling air and scanned the roof. Most of the vents were just pipes, no wider than her arm. There was one about fifty yards away, almost on the other end of the building, that might admit her. The only problem was it was more of a chimney than a vent and it was billowing out thick clouds of black smoke that carried the faintest hints of burned meat. A few quick hops took her to the chimney. The hot smoke washed over her face and she could feel it even through the layer of clay. She shifted her bag of dynamite, and with a frown set it down, burying it under a mound of slushy snow.

She could deal with burns, and it didn't seem quite hot enough to peel off her skin, but she didn't want her clothes to catch fire. Fighting evil while naked was not one of her talents. She frowned and flopped down on her back, making an awkward snow angel in the slush. She was pretty sure the mirror couldn't see her, but if anyone walked around up here, they'd know something was up. She stuffed a few handfuls of snow down the front of her shirt, and decided she wasn't going to get anymore psyched. She hopped onto the edge of the chimney, closed her eyes, took a breath and dropped down.

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"Naughty, naughty!" a high giggling voice declared.

The observation room echoed with clanks as bulky metal objects shifted around. A shadow passed over a wall covered in small mirrors, momentarily blotting them all out. There was a rasp as a blade was pulled from its sheath.

"What is it?" a deep voice replied in a bored tone.

"Oh! Oh! No, no, no! I've got dibs! I call this one!" the high voice declared. "She's mine, mine, **mine**! Skinny pretty painted thing! She jumped right down the incinerator shaft!"

"Report it," the other said. "Our Masters will decide how to deal with her if she isn't already cooked."

"You're no fun any more!" the giggling one declared. "You're getting old! You're forgetting! The blood! The screaming! The splatter! The wiggly little bits that fly off and you can't even tell where they came from! Oh! I can almost feel my cleaver in that…or maybe I should use something serrated?"

"Report it first," the other said.

The giggling one sighed as it picked up the hand set. The rotary phone bounced and jerked as large gloves tried to dial the security center.

"What happened to you, Slicer?" the giggler asked. "You used to be cool!"

The other did not respond.

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It was a dark trip, and unpleasantly hot. It also took slightly longer than she'd expected. Apparently the lab had four or five sublevels and the incinerator was at the bottom of these. She'd been forced to stick out her feet a few times to slow her descent, but she was still going pretty fast when she hit the bottom. A metal rack buckled under her, even as it burned through her shoes. She hopped around in the tiny room. There wasn't anything to breathe, but at least the little blue pilot flames beneath her let her see the door. It was hot, too, and took a layer of skin off her hand as she forced it open. She leapt out to the incinerator, slapping at her smoldering clothes.

Once all of her personal fires were dealt with, Summer paused for a moment to look around. There were boxes of files all around, and several corpses wrapped in stained tarps. There weren't any live people in the room, though. She tilted her head. There were footsteps in the hall outside, but no one was reacting to her entrance. She picked through the files, but they were all in some kind of code, or maybe another language. There were a few diagrams that might have been alchemy, but nothing she could work with. She'd never been one for paperwork, any way. She went to the corpses.

One of them was a man in an Amestris military uniform--a sergeant, according to his collar. She couldn't tell what had killed him, but her Slayer senses warned her that the body was somehow tainted. The next corpse didn't have any clothes, but he didn't have much skin to need covering up, anyway. It looked like a pack of angry somethings had gone to town on him. The next body wasn't outwardly damaged per se, but it was for some reason sporting four arms, instead of two.

_Somebody's gone all Frankenstein on these poor bastards_, she thought. There was an air vent in the floor on the other side of the four-armed man, and this one was large enough for her to fit through. She looked at the dead guys again. It wasn't like she could do anything for them. She pulled up the screen and climbed down.

She wiggled through the next junction, and then slowly lowered herself down one of the shafts. The metal was slick with condensation, and she had to push outward as she lowered herself a few feet at a time, praying the whole way that nothing would buckle. She knew she'd survive the fall, but it would be noisy as hell. She'd been crawling around the vents for half an hour, and she now realized that there were at least three more floors below the level of the incinerator. When she got to the bottom, she could hear the people screaming and crying for help much more clearly. But they were also coming from all around her. After a few minutes of frustrated huffing, she picked a direction.

She saw light and her movements became slow and silent. The vent came out in the wall next to the floor. A shelf blocked most of her view, but she could see enough to freak her out. Men in lab coats and surgeon's masks circled a table, poking and prodding at a growling…thing. At first she thought it was some kind of large cat, a tiger or something, but the tail lashed, scaled and serrated, and she realized the creature had more scales than fur. She was going to classify it as the creepiest animal ever, until the door opened, and a whole 'nother level of creeptitude walked in.

Her first thought was "bear", but that wasn't right. Of course, nothing about the creature was right. It looked like a man had sort of melted into the top of a bear while leaning over backwards. His upside-down head, complete with thick, nerdy glasses moved back and forth as he inspected the room. The men in lab coats stiffened and shuffled. It held out its clawed hand and one of the men handed it a clipboard, which it mulled over for several minutes as the creature on the table twitched and growled.

"There's nothing more we can learn from this one," the creature wheezed. "Begin the final stage."

The creature on the table strained against its bonds and its growls took on a strange huffing pattern. Summer realized that it was speaking. She strained her ears trying to puzzle them out.

"…get you…bastard…traitors…I was…orders…traitors…traitors…" it growled.

If a talking critter surprised them, they didn't let it show. One of the men in lab coats picked up a saw as the other dragged an I.V. over from the cluttered wall.

"Are you going to oversee vivisection, sir?" one of the men in coats asked the bear creature.

"No," it wheezed. "I have other work to do. Make sure your report is sufficiently detailed."

As it finished speaking, it made a strange noise and Summer couldn't tell if it was trying to breathe or chuckle. She decided she didn't care. She kicked away the vent cover, and flung herself into the room.

One of the men in lab coats lunged for a red button by the door. It was probably an alarm, but he wasn't fast enough. Summer leapt up over the table and her foot hit the man low in the back. Something snapped and he fell to the floor unmoving. The bear thing with the upside-down head rushed her, but her foot snapped up, striking it in the center of the chest so hard it was lifted off its feet. She grabbed a mallet off the table of surgical tools and threw it at the last guy in a coat, nailing him in the face. He didn't try to get up, but the thing with the upside-down head was struggling to roll over. Summer jumped again, landing on top of it, and slamming a fist into its creepy, wheezing face. It went limp.

She turned and saw the thing on the table was watching her.

"Hey," she said, rather awkwardly.

"…hey…your…self…" it ground out.

"If I let you up, you aren't going to bite me or nothing, right?" Summer asked.

The creature turned its head slightly, yellow eyes blinking. "…not…that far…gone…" it ground out.

Summer nodded and began to pull off the restraints. They snapped and tore easily under her enraged hands.

"…strong…" the creature growled and it got to its four clawed but wobbly feet.

Summer got the feeling it was raising an eyebrow at her.

"Ok," Summer said. "I was just here to have a look around, but things have gone all 'great escape' on us…. Are there any others in here that would, you know, like to be out of here?"

The creature looked at her oddly. "…eight…where they…kept me…"

"Can you get me there?" she asked.

It nodded. Summer went to the door to the operating room. It was steel and locked, but the hinges were on the inside. It didn't take much effort for her to snap those off, though it was noisier than she would have liked.

"What are we up against?" Summer asked as she peeked out the door.

She could hear a pair of marching feet two halls over. They echoed like Al's did.

"…men with guns…empty armor…carried swords…can't hurt it…most dangerous…the creatures…with the dragon mark…but…not many…of them…"

"What's your name anyway?" she asked.

"…Gabriel…"

"I'm the Slayer, though most people call me Scrap Demon. Nice to meet you, I guess."

Gabriel snorted.

"So…like…what are you?" Summer asked.

"…human…" Gabriel growled.

"Well…ok…," she said, trying to be polite. "But you've got some fur and claws and stuff that aren't…uh…part of the original package."

The creature turned its scaled and furred head towards her. His face was mostly cat and lizard, but she thought she could see expressions of shame and regret there, as well.

"…called chimera…animal spliced into…a human…with Alchemy…" he said.

Summer nodded as she slinked out into the hall. She could barely hear Gabriel's footfalls behind her, though there were faint little clicks of claws against stone.

"…Slayer…" he growled. "…what're you…?"

"Wish I knew," she muttered.

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Brrrrrrrrrring……Brrrrrrrrrrrrring………..Brrrrrrrrrrrring!

"Hello?" the friendly voice answered.

"There is a problem, Sir," General Gran said into the phone.

There was an icy silence on the other end of the line.

"What sort of problem?" the other voice finally said.

"The Scrap Demon has breached Lab 5," Gran replied.

"And you don't believe you'll be able to apprehend her?"

Gran struggled to keep his temper. He hated it when his competency was questioned, more so when the person questioning it was beyond all means of retribution. Unfortunately, he was forced to admit that calling for reinforcements now was much easier than explaining failure later.

"One or more of your agents would ensure capture," Gran said with as much control as he could.

"I'll see what I can do," the other responded, suddenly friendly again. "Anything else?"

"No sir," Gran said.

The line went dead.

Gran frowned and shifted in his seat. He hated calling upon those creatures. He'd told the Fuhrer time and time again that they couldn't be trusted, but his leader would not be convinced. He adjusted his gauntlets and walked back towards the observation room. He hoped Gluttony didn't show up. That creature would eat more research than it would preserve.

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There were a couple more guards in the next hall, but Summer took them out with two quick blows to the neck before they could even think of raising an alarm. They had been standing in front of a steel door, bolted from the outside. She looked at Gabriel, but he just gave her the quadruped version of a shrug.

She smiled faintly as she opened it, but the smile vanished as she saw the people inside. Three men in lab coats were standing around an occupied operating table. Rather than being unconscious, the man on it was tied down. Summer leapt forward. Her foot took out one of the "doctors" and a reverse punch took out another. Gabriel bowled the third man to the ground and there was a gurgling crunch.

Summer supposed she should have tried to stop him, but she couldn't help but notice that the man Gabriel was munching on had a scalpel all ready to go on a patient who wasn't even knocked out. The man on the table watched them, but really, what else was he going to do? He shifted awkwardly on the table and sniffed the air like a dog. His lip curled a little and she saw he had rather large canine teeth. Summer took a step towards him and he let out a slightly startled, dog like whine.

Summer blinked, and for a moment she saw another lab imposed over this one. Glowing beeping boxes with green zigzagging lines appeared and faded. The man strapped to the table had someone else's face.

"Oz?" she asked. "Is your name Oz?"

The man on the table tilted his head and looked at her curiously. "Nope. Dorchet," he said in an unexpectedly friendly tone.

The other face vanished, and she saw the man didn't look much like the image that had been in her head. His nose was too big and the eyes were wrong, his hair hadn't been dyed to resemble any sort of snow-cone…

She grabbed the shackles and snapped them off his wrists and then his ankles. He pulled off the straps across his throat and chest on his own.

"So…we're breaking out?" he asked, eyeing Gabriel.

"Yes," Gabriel ground out. "…where…others…?"

Summer supposed he was doing the talking to prove he could still speak.

"There's somebody behind just about every door," Dorchet said, as he relieved an unconscious scientist of his clothing. "The new freak…Tucker, he's been trying to recreate the process that produced us. He's ordered us all opened up again for study."

"What do you mean?" Summer asked, leaning out the door to give Dorchet some privacy.

The hall was still empty. After a moment she decided to drag the guys she'd knocked out in.

"Pants! How I've missed them," Dorchet muttered under his breath.

Summer didn't know if she was meant to hear that, but she laughed.

"You been here long?" Summer asked.

Dorchet nodded. "Years."

"What about you, Gabriel?" she asked.

"When…is…now…?" he growled.

"First of March," Summer said. "1915."

Gabriel turned his head from side to side and then sort of rubbed his face with one of his paws.

"…one year…five months…" he said.

"That's about the same time Tucker got here," Dorchet said. "I guess he wanted new meat."

Summer gave him a questioning look.

"The doc that did this to us, made us," Dorchet said, thumping his chest, "killed himself a few years ago. They brought in a new guy, Tucker. But he isn't quite as good. He can't make chimeras that can pass for regular people. They end up looking like him," he said, pointing at Gabriel.

Gabriel growled. Dorchet growled back.

"Play nice," Summer ordered, sharply.

"Sorry, Boss," Dorchet said with excess sincerity.

Summer turned to look at him. His entire posture screamed submission, head bowed and shoulders hunched.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," she said, a bit confused.

"Thanks, Boss," he said, smiling widely, his entire bearing suddenly joyful, like a Labrador retriever after it gets a pat on the head. It was freaking her out a bit until she remembered that he'd admitted he was a chimera. He could very well be three-quarters terrier on his mom's side or something.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," Summer said.

The two chimeras nodded and followed her into the hall.

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Dorchet was having an indescribable day. He supposed it was because of the lack of positive comparisons he'd been able to make recently. A normal day was surgery, obedience evaluation, and sleep. A good day consisted of being left in a cell or cage near enough to the other survivors of his platoon so they could talk and sometimes even touch hands. A great day meant painkillers after surgery. He was struggling to come up with a series of sounds that would accurately characterize a day in which he was freed from a cell, armed and going to rescue his comrades with the help of a Boss who could shred steel like it was cardboard. He finally settled on calling it a "hopeful" day inside his head, and repressed the urge to yip and run in a circle.

He shifted the rifles he'd taken off the guards in the hall. He was pretty sure Marta and Loa were still alive. He'd seen them two days ago. They were his closest friends and he was sure he'd feel it if they died. Of course, he hadn't known when Laurence bought it, not until weeks later when he saw the pieces they'd preserved in one of the labs they wheeled him through. He tried not to think about what had happened to his old allies. He forced himself to focus on the new.

The Boss smelled odd. Even as he checked the air around them for traces of pursuit, most of his focus was on the little bits of her that were floating into his nostrils. She had war smells, smoke and blood and metal. She had woman smells, cooking and soap and sweat. Under it all was something stranger, though. At first he had thought it was inhuman. The homunculi had a smell like that. Once in a while the shapeshifter would tease them when it came to inspect the facility. It would wear the face of comrades who were missing, and string them along, but eventually Dorchet, or one of the other chimeras with altered senses would pick up that smell and ruin its game. The Boss didn't smell quiet the same, and since she was the Boss, he decided he liked the smell, even though it made him nervous.

A new scent bullied through his contemplation and he froze.

"Boss-" he started to warn.

She was charging forward before the warning was out of his mouth. Two of the empty suits of armor were coming around the corner at the other end of the long hall they were in. She moved so fast she was almost flying. She kicked off the floor, bounced off a wall, and knocked the dome like helmets off of both armor guards. She didn't seem surprised that they were empty inside, so Dorchet didn't waste air telling her she couldn't hurt them. Gabriel passed him, and Dorchet growled to himself. He'd been in cages and small cells, strapped down for so long that even this short run was wearing him out. Still, he wasn't going to leave the Boss to fight those things on her own.

By the time he got to them, he realized she didn't need his help. She slipped or wrenched free of the armors' attempts to grab her, and calmly pulled them apart. Once a piece was pulled off, it lost whatever power had animated it. The shriek of rending metal made his ears ache, and he was sure someone else was hearing this as well. Instead of getting in the way, he raised one of the rifles and covered the end of the hall, in case the noise drew flesh and blood guards. Gabriel ran interference for the Boss, but Dorchet thought she probably could have done it without him, as well. Two minutes later the hall was quiet again and covered in bits of metal. The Boss took off down the hall again and Dorchet and Gabriel scrambled after.

They had gone all of twenty feet when the alarms went off.

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**Author's note:** Wow! Who knew alien abduction was the key to getting reviews? I was, like, totally blown away. Thanks everybody! I will do my best to post more regularly from now on!


	14. Chapter 14

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Maze and My Fellow Rats**

Roy Mustang sat in the hallway, by the window, watching the Central Housing barracks disgorge soldiers into the streets. He'd heard the phones and the running feet, but no one had come to wake him. He frowned, looking at his watch. It was 10:15 P.M., less than an hour since he'd gotten back from the Hughes house. He sighed and climbed to his feet.

The sergeants getting everyone organized were shouting back and forth. Mustang heard "Central Prison," "riot," and "escape," but that didn't interest him half as much as the map a few of the sergeants had lain out on the hood of a transport truck. A red circle marked the prison, but the circle also encompassed the supposedly decommissioned State Alchemist Research Lab 5.

Mustang had heard from an old friend that Lab 5 had housed some experiments that teetered on the edge of legitimate research, and had been "closed" on paper to keep the Commissions Board from interfering. When he asked what went on in there, his friend had warned him not to stick his nose in. Actually, his friend's statement was more like, "the Devil vacations there to remind himself that Hell isn't that bad" and that was after their service in Ishbal.

"Colonel? What are you doing here?" a voice demanded.

Mustang turned to see Lt. Colonel Gloss rushing up the street towards him.

"I heard there was a prison break," Mustang said calmly. "Do you need a hand?"

"No!" Gloss shouted, and then looked panicked and embarrassed. "That is to say, Sir, that…I was ordered not to bother you."

"I'm not bothered," Mustang said, noting Gloss's agitation.

"Well, Sir," Gloss said, swallowing. Mustang watched the other man's eyes sweep back and forth over the men in blue uniforms running around, no doubt looking for someone with a higher rank to foist him off on.

"I can take a hint," Mustang said after a moment. "Whoever is running this Op doesn't want me stepping on their toes. No problem," he reassured Gloss. "I'll just catch up on some sleep."

Mustang turned away from the relieved junior officer and wandered back up the steps toward the quarters he'd been assigned. When the platoons had organized and marched off, he walked back out the door, rubbing at his gritty eyes. It was a nice night for a walk, after all.

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Marta moved wearily as the alarms went off. Ulchi and Bido shifted as well. They weren't the cagemates she would have asked for, but because all of them had reptilian alterations, they frequently ended up together. She supposed the military was too cheap to heat three separate rooms. All three were recovering from exploratory surgery. She supposed the fact that they were all too tired and sore to move was a good thing. Ulchi was a grabby pervert, and more than once, she'd had to bite him to convince him that no meant no. Of course, if Loa was around, or even Dorchet, they'd watch him for her. She hadn't seen either of them in a few days, though. She hoped they'd survived their latest rounds under the knife.

"Wha' ss tha?" Ulchi hissed through jagged clenched teeth, as he opened one bleary yellow eye.

"Someone's breaking out!" Bido said, his tail lashing weakly.

"They aren't going to make it," Marta said.

"You're such a pessimist," Bido complained.

The alarms got louder and the lights suddenly dimmed. Bido tentatively touched the end of his tail to the bars, but flinched back as a blue spark leapt into him.

"Maybe it's not an escape," Marta said. "Maybe it's a purge."

"Don't talk like that!" Bido demanded. "They've spent too much money on us just to kill us!"

"They might if this place is about to be exposed," Marta said. "I've been overhearing them talk about a plague in the city above. Maybe they don't have enough people to watch us and they've decided to cut and run."

"You really think we're all about to die?" Ulchi asked, sitting up. "How about we have some fun before we go?"

Marta bared her teeth and hissed. The Alchemists who mixed her with a snake hadn't given her fangs, but her saliva was pretty toxic. Ulchi eyed her as she shifted, standing as upright as she could in the cage, always cautious of the electrified bars. Bido looked nervously back and forth between them. She knew he wouldn't come to her aid. Bido wasn't such a bad guy, but he wouldn't take on a three-hundred-pound half-crocodile man for his own sake, much less someone else's.

"Don't fight!" Bido begged. "Please? I don't want to get knocked into the bars again!"

The shrieking alarms and their own little drama almost covered up the sound of rending metal. Marta crawled back into the deepest available shadows, watching as the door of the lab was torn off its hinges. Cold air rushed in.

Cautiously, a head poked through the door. Marta didn't know what to make of the girl in the patchwork suit, whose face was smeared with clay and soot in a makeup job that put her halfway between mime and tribal savage. She obviously didn't work there.

"Hey!" the girl said. "Anybody want to break out with us?"

"Sure," Marta said cautiously.

The girl reached forward to grab the bars, but pulled back as Bido called out a less-than-articulate warning.

"They're electrified," Marta said. "The wiring is under the floor."

"Off switch?" the girl asked, looking around.

Marta shrugged.

"So how do they get you out of the cage?" the girl asked.

"They turn it off from another room. I don't know which one."

"Right," the girl said. "Ummm. Do any of you know anything about electricity?"

The three reptilian chimeras shook their heads.

"Ok then…gonna have to wing it, I suppose. Uh…I guess you should stand back," she said.

Marta wondered if she should say something, but couldn't think of what. The girl lunged forward and her hands closed around one of the vertical bars. Electricity arced up her arms, but instead of freezing up and frying, the girl jerked her body backwards, neatly snapping the bar out of the floor.

"Ow, hot," she hissed, dropping the bar to the floor with a clang, and blowing on her smoking palms. "Aw, dang, you aren't going to fit through there, are you?" she muttered mostly to herself.

She lunged in again, this time snapping off two bars at once. Marta hopped through the gap. Bido stepped out gingerly. Ulchi sort of flopped through the space, managing to hit one of the bars with his arm and get a well-deserved jolt.

"So who are you?" Marta asked, following the girl as she picked up one of the iron bars she'd broken and walked out into the hall.

"I'm the Slayer, nice to meet you," she said. "Do any of you know how to get out of here?"

"You don't know?" Bido asked, looking back into the room as if he intended to crawl back in the cage and wait it out.

"To be honest, I was just here to blow stuff up," the Slayer said. "But hey, rescue mission! So much more my thing!"

"Uh…right," Marta said.

There were other escapees running up and down the halls. There were guards slumped, unconscious or dead, every few yards, most of which had been relieved of their weapons and clothing. She found some boxers that weren't too messy, and a clawed chimera she didn't recognize handed her the shirt he'd been putting on. She nodded her thanks.

"Hey, Boss!" called a familiar voice from another room.

Marta's head jerked up. Dorchet was leaning into the hall in a mix of scrubs and a soldier's overcoat. He had a rifle looped over each shoulder and a dumb grin on his face.

"What's up?" the Slayer called.

"We can't get these guys out! They're behind electrified bars!" Dorchet said.

Before he finished his sentence, the Slayer was going through the doorway. Marta rubbed her eyes, slightly dumbfounded at how fast the other woman moved. She followed, a little hurt that Dorchet hadn't said anything to her. The Slayer was tearing the bars out of Loa's cage as she caught up to her. Dorchet noticed her then, and elbowed her in the side, grinning even wider.

"We're getting out!" he said.

"So I hear," Marta replied.

"Don't be so down!" Dorchet said, as he handed her one of the rifles and the overcoat. "The Boss won't let us down."

Marta didn't respond to that. She didn't really know what to think about the girl, except that "Boss" wasn't what came to mind when she looked at her. Dorchet seemed to think highly of her. Actually, Dorchet was practically humping her leg, but he had been weird since they turned him into a dog-boy. She thought that might be affecting his judgment. Of course, she couldn't call herself normal either, anymore, as her strongest desire lately had been to eat rats and then lie in the sun.

She raised a questioning eyebrow at Loa, but he just gave her a sort of guttural hrmmmmmmmm, as he stepped out of the cage. He hadn't been very talkative since the Alchemists had mixed Ox into his system. Loa looked around the room and at the unconscious soldiers outside, but none of them were sporting anything that would come even close to fitting him. It wasn't like someone was going to risk teasing a seven-and-a-half-foot-tall mass of muscle about being underdressed, anyway.

They assembled in the hallway again. Marta guessed there were at least twenty chimera, and nine humans who didn't appear to have been altered yet. She squinted in the dim and flashing lights. The regular humans weren't members of their platoon. A couple of them even appeared to be Ishbalans.

"So where are we going?" Marta asked as the Slayer started moving and they all followed.

"We're going to bust Gabriel's buddies out, and then I figured we'd start up the stairs, or something. I've never been here before, so if anybody has suggestions…uh…go ahead and shout them out."

Marta was going to ask who Gabriel was, but then noticed the large, four-legged creature slinking along the corridor just ahead of the group.

"How'd you get in?" Bido asked.

"I got in through the incinerator, and then the air vents. I don't think most of you would fit through them, much less make the climb back out," the Slayer said.

"…through…here…" the four-legged creature, Gabriel, growled at the next junction.

There were two open corridors, and one sealed off with a steel door. He was pawing at the sealed one. The Slayer nodded, grabbed the doorframe and pulled. Marta could see the strain on her face, but she could also see that the metal was bending and pulling away from the stone walls. It came free with a snap of hinges and the Slayer leaned it up against the wall. She stepped through and Marta darted after her. Before Marta could even look around, shots echoed in the corridor. Something slammed into her chest and she was thrown back through the door.

"Watch it!" the Slayer shouted.

Marta thought she'd been hit, but realized, even as the Slayer was peppered with bullets, that the impact had been the other woman's hand shoving her out of the way.

"Shit!" the Slayer shrieked and charged out of her line of sight.

Marta got back up and went to the door. There was a bang and thumping and a few grunts. She saw the puddle of blood on the concrete floor and looked back into the hall, keeping her head almost to the ground. The Slayer was at the other end of the hall, taking rifles from the hands of a squad of now-prone guards. She turned and saw Marta looking.

"It's clear! Come on!" the Slayer called, waving.

Marta rushed forward, and the others came behind her. For a moment she thought the girl must have been wearing armor, but up close she could see several bloody holes that went straight through her torso.

"Sit down or something," Marta hissed, as she grabbed up one of the unconscious men's jackets and tried to press it to the wounds.

"Don't worry about it," the Slayer said, waving her off. "No nerve damage."

"What?"

"These will heal up in a few hours," the Slayer said. "I'm part of the freak show, too, remember?"

Marta nodded. The others were already moving to strip the guards of their gear. Marta went to join them. She pulled a knife from a guard's belt and moved to finish him off. The Slayer caught her wrist.

"They'll be out for hours, and we'll be long gone by then," she said.

"After what they did to us-" Marta started to hiss.

The Slayer interrupted. "Would you have done any different if you were the guard and they were in the cage?"

Marta frowned. She couldn't say yes, but she didn't think no was the right answer, either. She did understand that the girl with the crazy suit and the painted face would have said yes in a heart beat. People like that don't last very long. She jerked her hand back and put the knife in her pocket. She didn't answer the girl who was still staring at her, but instead shrugged.

"This way," Gabriel said, as he snuffled along the floor.

They moved again. Every once in a while the Slayer would dart ahead of them and there would be a few muffled thumps as she took out a few more sentries, but no more shots were fired. The smell in this part of the lab was definitely worse. Dorchet whined faintly as the reek of animal terror surrounded them. A few of the others turned to look at him. He glared and then gave an embarrassed shrug. They came to a wide hall, with a dozen cells on each side. The doors were narrowly spaced bars, rather than solid steel.

Marta would not have classed the chimeras in those cells as humans, but the Slayer went to the door, and said very slowly "We're breaking out; want to come?"

The creature in that cell growled and whined and made a sort of gagging sound. The Slayer nodded, grabbed the door and pulled. The bars bent under her hands and a moment later, the creature darted through. It growled and circled in the hall, glaring at them. It looked like someone had mixed a dog with an alligator, and there was something in the eyes that hinted at intelligence. The Slayer went to the next cell and the next, and more of the creatures stalked around them. A few of them engaged in grunting conversation with Gabriel, and Marta supposed they could understand each other. She was a little surprised when one of them bumped its head into Dorchet's side.

After a few minutes of growling and whining, Marta interrupted their "conversation".

"You understand him?" Marta asked.

Dorchet nodded. "This used to be James Garret. Remember, the munitions sergeant with the spiderweb tattoo on his neck?"

Dorchet pushed some of the creature's fur aside, and Marta saw the faint blue pattern.

"Oh, new idea!" the Slayer announced over the howl of the alarms. "If we can find a place where the lab is close to the sewer system, we can just break through and get out that way, totally avoiding the rest of the guards."

"Which way?" one of the chimeras called.

"The water in the floor drains is moving that way," Dorchet said.

Marta followed as Dorchet, the Slayer and the pack of four-legged chimeras took the lead through the winding hallways. Marta's last escape attempt hadn't gotten her nearly this far. She was starting to think they might at least make it outside before they were gunned down, when the alarms suddenly went dead and the lights went out completely. She paused for a second and that saved her from being sliced in half as a steel security door slammed down in front of her. There was confused stumbling behind her as people stepped on each other's toes and bumped into walls.

"Loa!" she called. "Can you get this thing open?"

"Hmmmmmmmmmm," he said, coming up beside her. "Depends."

"On what?" she asked.

"On what it is they've just started pumping in through the vents," he said as he tried to get a grip on the metal.

Marta noticed the acrid scent in the air and pressed her hands over her mouth. Everyone else had gone quiet and she could hear the hissing now. She heard pounding, too, which she assumed was the Slayer trying to get the door up from her side. Her head was getting light. As the floor rushed up at her, she decided she hadn't been pessimistic enough.

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"Boss?" Dorchet called, as he pressed his ear to the door.

He'd been so busy trying to find the sewer access that he hadn't even noticed the doors coming down. The four-legged chimeras had rushed back to the Boss before the corridor was sealed, but Dorchet had been too far ahead and too slow to go back.

"Boss?" he called again.

"…out…keep…looking…catch up…" he heard her shouting.

"What? Say again, Boss?" he yelled.

He banged on the door with his fist and the butt of his rifle, but she didn't say anything else. He heard the gas coming from the vents and tore off his sleeve, wrapping it around his face. He felt around in the dark, but the corridor was empty except for a security door at one end, and an equally heavy door at the other. He was trapped, and now starting to get dizzy. More out of desperation than anything else he raised the rifle and fired. The bullet hit the door and ricocheted back before lodging in the stone by his foot. The muzzle flash showed him something interesting, though. The vent in the ceiling, where the gas was coming in, was probably large enough for him to fit through.

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"Reporting for duty, sir," Lust purred.

Gran tried to hide his annoyance. The creature hadn't put much effort into her disguise. She'd put a woman's issue uniform jacket over the top of her green dress, but hadn't bothered to do up the buttons. Her companion was even worse. The Fuhrer had sent Gluttony. The drooling dimwit didn't have a chance in hell of fitting into a standard uniform, so they put a blue beret on his head. He supposed the professionally dressed Major that escorted them was Envy.

"What's the situation, Sir?" the Major asked with a smirk.

There weren't any other soldiers in the immediate vicinity, but Gran kept up the act.

"The vigilante known as the Scrap Demon entered the building through the incinerator approximately an hour ago. She has taken out most of the guards in the high security lab and is in the process of releasing all the research subjects. Your orders are to neutralize her, and recapture as many of the research subjects as you can."

Gran resisted the urge to lash out as Envy mouthed "orders" to Lust as if it were some sort of joke.

"Any questions?" Gran asked.

Gluttony raised a hand.

"Can I eat them?"

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Dorchet climbed. He'd never much liked heights, but the Boss was counting on him. With his mouth clamped shut and his arms shaking, he worked his way up the vent, moving toward the faint light he could now see at the top. His head was spinning as he finally pushed the screen aside and flopped out on the floor. The air was much better up here, but there was a downside. There were three soldiers in the room pointing guns at him. He supposed his obvious delirium was the only thing that kept him from being shot immediately. He thought about going for his rifle, and then belatedly remembered he'd dropped it while climbing into the air vent. It was probably a little too late to go back for it.

As they shouted and someone wrenched his limp arms behind his back, his eyes drifted to the large canisters all around the room. He then noticed the gas masks on the soldiers' faces. It came back to him, then. The Boss was counting on him. It was instinct more than thought that led him at that point. He growled, twisted, and bit the nearest soldier on the leg. The man shouted and squeezed the trigger on his rifle, but Dorchet was thrashing around and the bullet passed through the flesh of his upper arm instead of his chest.

It hurt enough to clear his head, though, and he kicked and rolled over, taking the man who'd been trying to bind his arms with him. They bounced into the canisters of gas, knocking a few of them over as another shot was fired. Dorchet got one of his arms free and punched his attacker in the throat. The man gagged and let go. Dorchet grabbed the man's collar and belt and heaved him into his coworker. The rifle went off again, followed a split-second later by an even more deafening bang as one of the gas canisters exploded. All of them were knocked to the ground, but Dorchet got up first. He grabbed a dropped rifle off the floor and put a bullet in the nearest soldier's chest. The other two appeared unconscious, but he didn't take chances, and two more shots ensured they wouldn't follow him. He took one of their gas masks and went to the canisters. He wasn't sure how the vent system worked, so he just closed the valves on all the canisters that hadn't exploded yet.

He took a blood-soaked coat off of one of the dead soldiers. It wasn't much of a disguise, but maybe it would buy him a second's advantage. He put it on over the scrubs and staggered into the hall with some vague idea of finding a way to raise the doors on the lower levels. His ears were ringing from all the noise but he heard the deep voice behind him well enough.

"You shouldn't be up here."

Dorchet whirled, bringing up the rifle, only to watch in confusion as the barrel fell from the stock with a dull clank. Blinking and backpedaling, he saw his attacker, a suit of samurai armor with a red glow in the eye slit that meant no one was inside. His eyes were drawn to the sword it carried, now held up in guard position.

"I work here," Dorchet mumbled, knowing the excuse wouldn't hold up.

"You weren't issued shoes with your uniform?" the armor asked in an amused voice.

"Budget cuts?" Dorchet suggested, not bothering to look down.

The armor snorted, changed its grip on its sword, and lunged.

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Summer growled and slammed her fist into the floor again. She was pretty sure she had a few broken fingers, but the stone was coming apart faster then the steel door was. She'd tried to kick it down, but it was much thicker than the doors to the rooms, and instead of relying on hinges to keep it upright, the door was set in deep groves in the stone. Her best bet was to lift it, and to do that she would have to get to the bottom edge. She frowned, wishing she could have brought Al with her. He could just draw some circles and bam! the door would be gone. Of course, he would probably have a panic attack if he saw the lab, and he wouldn't have fit through the vents in the first place.

She looked back at the pack of four-legged chimeras, who were stumbling around a bit drunkenly, but were on their feet, at least. She didn't know who cut off the knockout gas, but she was grateful. It didn't do much to her, but she wasn't going to be able to carry thirty people out of there, no matter how much effort she put in.

She winced and slammed her fist down again. Something cracked and this time it wasn't a bone in her hand. A chunk of stone fell away beneath her. She heard it fall for at least two breaths before it hit the bottom. Frowning, she leaned down and peered into the cavernous space. There was a faint purple glow coming from a pattern painted on the ceiling, floor, and walls. Her heart raced as she recognized alchemy.

A bound man lay on his side in the center of the design. As the sound of falling stones echoed through the room, the man twitched, and with great effort, rolled over to look up at her.

"Hey there, doll," he said with a confident smile that showed off sharp teeth. "Why don't you come down here and give me a hand?"

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**Author's note**: Mwahahahahaha! Cliffies for all!


	15. Chapter 15

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Second to Last Stand**

"I'll think about it," Summer called down through the hole in the floor.

She reached into the cracked stone and pushed up with aching hands. The security door rose a few shrieking inches upward, enough for Loa to get his hands under it from his side. Shaking and straining they pushed it up. The chimeras and humans rushed into the next section of hallway. A couple of them nearly fell into the hole, and Summer belatedly realized they couldn't see in the dark the way she could. Most of them seemed to have difficulty shaking off the knockout gas, as well. Somebody produced a cigarette lighter from an article of stolen clothing and lit it.

For a panicked moment, Summer considered the possibility that the gas, that hadn't quiet dissipated, was flammable, but when they didn't all blow up, she relaxed. Well, she relaxed as much as any person could while holding up a four-ton steel door. Loa stepped through as she took the full weight with shaking arms. When everyone was clear, she jumped back and it slammed down again.

"Next one?" Loa asked.

"One second," Summer said, shaking and flexing her broken hands.

The huge man tried to inspect her injuries but she hid them behind her back. Human bones just weren't made to be jackhammers, no matter how much they were reinforced. She didn't think she'd be able to dig out the bottoms of more than four additional doors before her knuckles were turned completely to hamburger. She doubted she'd get a few hours of rest to let them heal in between. She looked at the hole again.

"I've gotta ask the guy down there a few questions," Summer said, nodding towards the hole in the floor. "Check on the next door for me?"

Loa nodded, but several of the others started shouting panicked and confused questions as Summer dropped into the dark. The second she entered the room her head spun. Her stomach twisted and it was all she could do not to vomit. She landed badly and rolled a few feet. The symbols on the walls were doing it, that much she knew. The man bound on the floor watched her as she staggered upright and walked towards him. Her head seemed to get a little clearer as she moved.

"Didn't think you were one of us, Doll," the man on the floor said. "Are you the new Lust?"

"If that's some kind of come-on, I'm totally going to leave you down here," she replied, bending down next to him to get a better look. Something about him was wrong, beyond the fact that he bore an uncomfortable likeness to the shape-shifting creature she'd been fighting with the last few days: purple, slit-pupil eyes, pale skin, and sharp teeth.

"You aren't friends with a guy named Envy, are you?" Summer asked.

The man raised an eyebrow. "We go back a long way, but I wouldn't call us friends," he said, pausing to lick his lips. "He helped the Hag seal me in here. That must have been…a hundred and thirty years ago. I'm Greed, by the way," he added.

"I'm the Slayer," Summer said. "I'm going to destroy Envy and any other of the should-be-dead that prey on humans. It's sort of my thing. So the big question here is, if I let you out, are you going to play nice?"

He looked at her for a long moment, and she was about to mention that they were a bit pressed for time when he spoke.

"Well here's how it is Doll; I'm **_Greed_**, get it? I want everything. I want every person, place, and thing to be **_mine_**. But I don't want damaged goods. And I don't want the Hag to have her way. How about this? I won't help them or hurt any little humans who aren't really asking for it? Does that work?"

She looked at the pale, not-quite-human face in front of her. She couldn't tell if he was lying. Why else would the others lock him up, though? She supposed he could be so crazy and destructive that they sealed him away for their own safety. Or maybe he refused to hide like they did, and could give away their existence or their plans. She tried to consult the echoes in the back of her head.

_Demons lie…Hello?_ _I'm bloody Evil, remember?…I'll watch out for the Nibblet for you…_

"I guess," Summer said, finally.

She grabbed the straps that bound him and snapped them. It was harder than it should have been, but she guessed it was something to do with the alchemy in the room, again. He sat up, but immediately fell over. As he flopped around, she saw the dragon mark on his hand. The room seemed to be affecting him much more than it was her.

"Hey, Doll? Do me another favor and smash that skull in the ceiling, up there?" Greed said, tilting his chin up.

Summer looked up and saw a skull plastered into the center of the alchemic pattern above them.

"Is it a saint's or something?" she asked as she picked up a loose bit of stone.

Greed laughed. "It's mine, Doll."

She reached out and poked him in the forehead. He felt solid enough. Something was definitely keeping her finger from going into his brain. He laughed again.

"It's from my original body," Greed said. "It's the person I was supposed to come back as, the one they wanted to bring to life when whoever-it-was did their human transmutation and made a homunculus. It conflicts with what I am now."

Summer frowned. She was too worked up to process all of this now. She pitched the rock and the skull shattered in tiny chips that rained down on them. Greed flinched and brushed them off. She noticed he suddenly had a lot more motor function.

"Come on," she said, pulling him to his feet. "We've got a lot more escaping to do."

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"Which chimera are you?" the suit of armor asked as it lunged toward him.

Dorchet hopped back. He'd collected dozens of superficial cuts across his torso, but so far he'd been able to dodge anything really disabling. Every one of the little slashes stung, though, and his stolen clothes were soaked through with blood.

"Come now, don't be rude," the armor said in its deep, echoing voice. It waved its sword at him. "I'm the Slicer, by the way."

Dorchet snorted. "Well it's better than Mr. Stab, I guess."

"Oh, a sense of humor!" the armor said as Dorchet ducked under the next wide swing. "You aren't the cat, then. Cats have no appreciation for the absurd."

The floor shook as something exploded far below them. He couldn't stop himself from mumbling "Boss" with great concern.

"Ah…the dog!" the Slicer said. "Of course! Loyal and stubborn, but not all that bright."

Dorchet shrugged off the insult and for the most part dodged the next thrust. The blade opened up a narrow line, almost in his armpit, but he threw himself back and to the side quickly enough to avoid getting skewered. He was just wondering when he was going to run out of room to retreat when his arm hit the cold steel door. He moved back and forth in the narrow hallway, but he couldn't get around the Slicer, and he had nothing to block the sword with. He was cut again, but moved to the side in time to prevent a lethal injury. He should have been finished instantly, but it was apparent that the armor was playing with him. They both knew Dorchet didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

"Why are you screwing around?" Dorchet demanded.

"They don't let me have fun very often," the Slicer said. "You can't fault me for drawing it out a bit, can you? If you're tired, though, you can lie down and I'll finish you off."

Dorchet growled, dodging the next blow and the next, and most of the ones after that. He didn't know how long he kept it up, moving back and forth in those few yards of space, playing a game he knew he'd lose, but he couldn't give up. The Boss and the last of his platoon were in trouble.

His foot slipped and his leg went out to the side. His knee hit the floor and before he could get back up, the Slicer lunged. He felt the blade sink into his guts. He grabbed at the sword, but the armor was much stronger, and it very slowly dragged the sword up through the chimera's torso.

"Any last words?" the Slicer asked.

Dorchet's growled reply was interrupted as his stomach convulsed and bloody vomit splashed out of his mouth.

"What was that?" the Slicer asked.

"…not…gonna let…the Boss…down…" he wheezed.

"I am afraid, little dog, that you are."

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It turned out that Greed had a talent for opening four-ton security doors. As soon as the homunculus was out of the sealed room, purple sparks appeared around his hands and they reformed into claws. He sank them into the steel door and lifted it enough for Summer and Loa to get their hands under it and get it the rest of the way up. When everyone was through, they let it drop shut behind them, to slow up pursuit for one, but mostly because they didn't have a way to keep it open.

They found Dorchet's gun and a broken vent cover in the next hall. Summer listened under the vent for a moment, but he'd gotten out of her range. She considered going up after him, but that would mean splitting up, as most of the guys, not to mention Loa, wouldn't fit through there. She'd get the others outside and come back for him.

As Summer took the next door from Greed, he leaned into her personal space and glared at the bullet holes she'd acquired earlier in the evening.

"Why aren't they healing?" Greed asked her.

"They are," she said. "They'll be gone in a couple of hours."

He stared at her for a long uncomfortable minute, but a second before she decided to let the door drop on his head, he shrugged and moved on.

They tried to move toward the outer walls of the lab, but there were few cues to work with, and when there was more than one direction to choose from, the choice was made randomly. They passed several large open rooms with alchemic symbols in them, but as they didn't have windows or doors through which one might leave the building, everyone suppressed the urge to explore.

At least until Summer passed a set of steel double doors--covered with scorch marks and chained shut. Whatever was in there made her feel as if bugs were crawling over every inch of her skin. At the same time, she could hear nothing living inside, no people or mice, or even cockroaches. She stopped walking and Gabriel stopped next to her, sniffing at the base of the door.

"…many went in…" the feral chimera growled. "…but none out…"

"What is it?" Greed asked, coming back through the crowd of chimeras and humans.

They all looked at him warily as they got out of his way, but he ignored them. Summer snapped the chains off the doors and pulled them open. Red light spilled out into the hall.

"Good work, Doll," Greed declared, striding past her into the room.

Summer stepped carefully after him, looking from side to side. Red liquid filled tanks on one side of the room and ran through tubes, dripped from spigots, and lay in steaming puddles on lab benches on the other. The center of the room was decorated with a huge transmutation circle. Summer walked across it to peer into one of the tanks. The liquid wasn't quite the color of blood, though Summer thought it should be. Maybe her eyes were fooled because it glowed with some internal light of its own. She tapped the glass. There was a flash of light inside her head and an echoing shriek, but between blinks it was gone.

"Why are you eating rocks?" Marta demanded, drawing Summer from her dazed inspection of the tanks.

Greed was indeed taking dark red rocks from a crucible on one of the lab benches and shoveling them into his mouth. He raised an eyebrow at the snake chimera.

"First of all, they're low quality philosophers' stones, not rocks. Second of all, it's none of your business." Greed turned to look at Summer.

"Doll, come here and have some," he ordered. "They'll patch up your hands and the rest of the little holes you've got poked in you."

He scooped up another little pile of them and started shoving them toward her face as if he expected her to eat them out of his hand. Summer caught his wrist.

"Maybe later," she said, taking the rocks and putting them into a pocket.

"Suit yourself," he said.

He took the rest of the rocks out of the crucible and gulped them down.

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"Uh-oh," Gluttony said.

"What?" Lust asked.

"Somebody got out of their cage," Gluttony said.

"Everybody is out of their cage, you moron!" Envy growled.

So far they'd only found dead guards, or unconscious guards, who frequently then became dead guards, when Gluttony found them first.

"He's out of his cage," Gluttony said, pointing to a hole in the floor.

The fat homunculus could not have fit through it, but apparently had no desire to. Gluttony circled the hole as Lust walked over and peered in.

"Master is going to be very upset," she said.

"What is it?" Envy demanded, nearly ready to tear his own hair out.

The security doors were slowing them down, and Gluttony was slowing them even more, by stopping to inspect every weird smell he came across and ask them whether they thought its source was going to taste good.

"Greed isn't in his cage," Lust said.

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Summer was beginning to think they were going in a circle. They hadn't passed the same room twice, or anything that obvious, but she didn't think they were getting any closer to the outside. If they didn't find the sewer access soon, she decided they'd start breaking their way up through the ceiling towards the surface. They'd have to deal with whatever guards had been brought in, but the way they were going now, they'd just be walking in circles forever.

Her thoughts went to the 'Philosopher's Stones' in her pocket. These were the things Al wanted, weren't they? They were the things Al thought could save him. They were evil, though. She knew that much. She hadn't had another mental flash warning her away from them, but the crawling feeling hadn't left her since she took them. It was the same feeling she got from Envy and Greed and the other inhuman creatures she'd run into. Even as she thought about it, the feeling suddenly quadrupled.

"No!" she said, catching Greed's wrists before he could sink his claws into the next door. "They're on the other side," she hissed. "Three of them."

"What-" Greed started to ask.

His question was cut off as five thin blades pierced the door and stabbed him in the chest. Summer grabbed his shoulders and pulled him backwards off the points. He made a face as his chest healed up in a shower of purple sparks.

"Go back!" Summer ordered.

No one needed to be told twice. The blades lashed through again, this time cutting purposely down through the door. Greed got to the previous door and wrenched it up, leaving Loa to hold it for the others as he raced back through. Summer held it up while Loa ducked under. As she hopped back and released it, she saw the claws in the other door retract. There was an echoing clang as the torn steel fell. Just as she dropped her door, she saw a familiar woman in a green dress and opera gloves. She'd seen her on the roof of Central all those months ago. Envy and some other fat drooling goon came up behind her. The woman smirked at Summer even as the door slammed down.

"How many?" Greed asked, as they wrenched up the next door.

"Three," Summer said. "Envy, a skanky woman in a green dress, and a fat dude."

"Sounds like Gluttony," Greed said. "He can eat through anything he can get his mouth around, and the other's the new Lust, then."

"Keep moving!" Summer ordered as a few of the chimeras stopped to listen to their conversation.

"So do they have a secret weakness or something?" Summer asked as they rushed down the next hall.

"Not unless you've got an alchemist and a piece of their original body," Greed said. "I can fight one of them to a standstill, but there are two too many for that." His voice suddenly dropped low. "If we left the humans behind, they'd probably keep them busy long enough for us to escape."

"Better idea," Summer said. "We split up. You keep looking for the exit, and you take them with you. I'll keep the Fatty, Skanky, and Wannabe busy, and catch up with you all later."

"They'll destroy you," Greed said.

Summer snorted. "You're totally underestimating me," she said, as they rushed for the next door. "Besides, who wants to live forever?"

"Besides me?" he asked.

"Just get them out of here, ok?"

"Fine. I'll get your humans out of the lab, but I'm not going to baby-sit them after that."

She nodded.

"And eat the stones," Greed added. "Whoever made you must not have finished, or you wouldn't bleed like that."

"Maybe later," she said again.

Together they wrenched up another door, this one leading past the red stone room. It had enough space so she wouldn't be pinned down easily, at least. She stopped and Greed kept going, pulling up the next door down the hall. The chimeras and humans stumbled to a halt, confused.

"Get a move on!" Summer ordered.

"But…" one of the unaltered humans said, his eyes moving to the dark hallway behind her. "Those things are coming."

"And they aren't getting past me, so get your butts in gear!" she ordered, making shooing motions.

Most of the humans and chimeras darted through the door Greed had opened. Four of the forty escapees stayed. Greed shrugged, and let the door drop closed. Summer inspected her backup as she prayed silently that Greed would keep his word.

"I can get that door open again," Summer said to the chimeras before her.

Marta glared at her, as she shoved a cartridge into her stolen rifle. "We aren't going to make it anyway, and I don't want to be cut down running."

"Hmmmmmmmm," Loa said, while nodding.

Gabriel growled low in his throat. Summer raised an eyebrow at the last member of their little suicide brigade. It was a chimera almost as big as Loa, with a distended jaw filled with sharp teeth, and yellow reptilian eyes. She hadn't caught his name.

"All the hot girls are here," the crocodile like man said, drooling slightly. "Where else would I be?"

"That's it," Marta declared over the sound of rending metal as the homunculi sliced through the door. "I'm living through this. No way am I going to end up on the same memorial as Ulchi the pervert."

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Greed watched as the three dozen humans and chimeras rushed past him into the next section of hallway. The four-legged ones took the lead, trying to find the sewer access again. Greed watched them sniff the floor and wondered how they could smell anything over their own stench.

He didn't know why the Slayer chick wanted so desperately to protect them, but she'd helped him out and he didn't like to be in debt. Her face was way too human, even under the crazy clay paint she was wearing. He supposed the Hag hadn't had anything to do with making her.

Idly he wondered if some alchemist was out there making Virtues to combat the Sins the Hag had created or taken in after they were abandoned. The girl called herself 'slayer' though, and slaying wasn't a virtue, was it? Greed considered asking, but even a hundred and thirty years ago, few humans remembered the religion the Hag was referring to when she made those seven names her own. He'd have to ask a historian, and he didn't think he would find one among the dirty refugees and soldiers the military had assembled in this dismal place. He frowned as he pulled up the next door and some red-eyed human said 'thank you' as he scurried past.

"…here!..." grunted one of the feral chimeras as it clawed at the base of a wall. Greed thought it looked rather like a sheep dog except for the spines that ran from the base of its skull to the tip of its tail. "…here…moving water… behind…"

Greed pushed through the crowd and inspected the wall. They hadn't passed it before, so he supposed it could be near the Central sewer system. Of course, it could also be a water main, and it probably wouldn't take long to flood this little section of subbasement, as it was sealed at both ends. He shrugged, strengthened his armor a bit, and slammed a fist into the wall. The stone cracked, but it took eight more blows to break through, and ten more after that to get a hole large enough for the escapees to fit through.

The smell alone told him they had, in fact, breached the sewers. The feral chimeras scrambled through first, splashing into god-only-knew-what. More reluctantly, the rest of the chimeras went, and Greed had to glare at the unaltered humans to get them moving. He doubted anything in there could be more_ icky_ than the labs they were destined for. Then he crawled through after them. As something squished apart under his boot, he changed his mind.

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Lust smirked at the Scrap Demon and the four chimeras at her side. She wondered why these chimeras had stayed while the others fled. She recognized the crocodile man and the giant they'd mixed with an ox. She was pretty sure the other woman, with a tattoo running up her neck and onto her cheek, was some kind of reptile. She glanced at the four-legged chimera that was growling slightly. They all stared back at her, looking very brave and resolute. It made her want to pluck out their eyes. She lashed out with her claws to test their reflexes. They sprang back as her fingers lengthened and scratched five parallel lines in the stone floor.

"Last chance to get back in your cages," Lust said to them, belatedly remembering their orders from Gran.

The female chimera raised a rifle. Lust continued to smirk even as a bullet pierced her eye and flew out the back of her head. The damage was undone a moment later in an eruption of purple sparks.

"You can't be serious," Lust mocked in a low voice.

The chimera fired four more times.

"Can I eat them?" Gluttony whined.

"I suppose," Lust said.

The Demon and the chimeras retreated down the hall, towards an open room Lust easily recognized from the red light spilling out of it. She followed them down the hall and then inside. Her five opponents spread out. There was a long moment of silence.

"Dibs on the pretty, girly one!" the crocodile chimera finally said.

"He's all yours," the Scrap Demon said, waving towards an enraged and twitching Envy.

"You bitch! I'll-"

Envy was cut off as the woman with the tattoo lunged forward and clubbed him in the face with her now-empty rifle.

"I'll give you a hand, Ulchi," she said.

"…I'll…get…the fat one…" the four-legged chimera ground out.

"Loa, give him a hand?" the Scrap Demon said.

The huge man nodded and started walking towards Gluttony who was smiling at them and asking if they tasted good. Neither of them chose to respond.

"Just you and me, hu?" the Scrap Demon asked her.

Lust watched the girl rock back and forth on the balls of her feet. Envy had given them all sorts of contradictory reports on this one. First she was another homunculi, and then she was just a human. Lust didn't think she was either, exactly. She could see the girl was injured and stained with her own blood. The wounds should have been fatal, but since the girl wasn't dead, something was going on.

Lust lashed out with the claws on her right hand, but the girl easily leapt over them, and twisted gracefully in the air to dodge a swipe from her left. The Scrap Demon backed up and Lust pursued her across the lab. The Demon stopped when her back hit the wall and for a moment, Lust thought she had her trapped. A moment later she saw how wrong she was. When she lashed out, the Demon leapt up out of the way, and in the few instants in which Lust's claws stuck in the stone, the Demon landed inside her guard and delivered half a dozen bone-shattering punches to her face. The injuries healed instantly, but they shouldn't have occurred in the first place.

Lust tried to grab her and pin her against her own body. It would be easy enough to run her through with her claws then, but the Demon leapt up again, straight over Lust's head. She started to turn, but realized the girl was dancing around, keeping directly behind her. Lust had a moment to wonder why the girl wasn't striking her blind side when she felt a tug on her hair.

She was pulled off her feet and slammed into one wall, and then swung around the other way into another. She flailed, trying to slash the girl, but the Scrap Demon just leaned out of the way and swung Lust into something else. A tank of red water shattered, and she was dragged through the reactive liquid. Finally, in annoyance more than desperation, she slashed off her own hair. It regenerated instantly, but it was a blow to her pride to let her opponent know she had no other way to get out. The Demon hopped back away from another slash.

More than a little peeved, Lust risked glancing over her shoulder at her fellow homunculi. This battle should have been over the instant they found the pitiful mortals. Instead, the chimeras and their acrobatic leader were making them look like fools.

Envy was lashing out wildly at the crocodile chimera, but what should have been a devastating blow came up short as the snake woman's arm caught his foot, tugging Envy off-balance so his fist swung through empty air. The snake woman leapt back as Envy turned on her, and in the split second of inattention the crocodile man punched him in the back of the head. Envy flew forward into one of the tanks of red water, howling as the glass shattered and the red liquid poured over him. The seal on the floor flashed in response, but none of their prey were alchemists, so in the end, it wouldn't cause them too much trouble.

She looked over at Gluttony after swatting aside a beaker the Scrap Demon pitched at her. Gluttony, though dumber than a dog, should have been able to handle the large man and four-legged chimera who had attacked him, but he too, was failing.

She had to admit that the giant human was smarter than he looked. Realizing he wouldn't be able to overpower or destroy the cannibalistic homunculi, he simply focused on restraining him. As the four-legged chimera snapped and darted around Gluttony, keeping his attention, the huge man snuck up behind him and grabbed the back of his neck and the small of his back. Then he lifted Gluttony into the air.

That was a feat in and of itself since Gluttony weighed more than half a ton, and kicking and waving his arms no doubt made it hard to balance such a burden above his head. Lust saw the strain on the chimera's face as Gluttony howled and thrashed. But because he had nothing push off of and nothing to grab, it wasn't doing Gluttony much good.

Lust sighed. Despite Envy's claims of superiority due to age, he was still the testy irrational teenager he must have been when he died, even if he wore a different face now. And Gluttony was just dumb. As usual, she'd have to help them out before this became a complete disaster. If only the Scrap Demon would hold still and cooperate.

An idea occurred to her then, and she knew her smirk worried her enemy. Lust turned from the girl and darted to the other side of the room, where Envy and the two reptilian chimeras were fighting. The Demon called out a warning and the crocodile man dodged Lust's claws, but stumbled into Envy's reach. He kicked him into a wall. The chimera slumped to the floor, groaning and holding his face. Lust lashed out at the snake woman next, but the Demon slammed into Lust's back, knocking her sprawling on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Envy to get his hands on the female chimera, though.

The Demon leapt away from Lust, but not fast enough. Lust twisted around on the floor, lashing out with both hands--one high, one low. The Demon twisted in the air, but Lust's claws finally connected, slicing open the girl's right leg. The Demon landed on her good leg and dodged the next slash, but Lust could see she'd slowed her down. She turned her attention to the giant who was still holding Gluttony. The Demon saw her new target too, and lunged between Lust and the struggling chimera. She took a lazy swipe at the girl with her right hand, and she dodged back the way she'd come.

That was how Lust had planned it, though. With only one working leg, the Demon wasn't able to change direction quickly. Lust's left hand came up and her fingers stretched out. All five blades pierced the Demon's chest and pinned her to the floor.

Lust glanced over at Envy, who was still grappling with the snake chimera. He saw Lust had the Demon pinned though, and glared. Lust didn't think she'd ever get tired of showing him up. With a smirk, she raised her right hand and flexed her claws, making sure the Scrap Demon could see them rushing down in a graceful arc towards her neck.

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**Author's Note:** Wow, this chapter got long, and yet it is still a cliffy. Sigh! Don't worry! There will be a new post soon, after I get back from _Death Valley_. Mwhahahahahaha!


	16. Chapter 16

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Drop By Any Time**

"It's a bad idea, Al," Hughes said, obviously frustrated.

"Something is really wrong, sir, and she's out there by herself," the armored boy responded.

Hughes wanted to get up from the couch and pace, but he could barely keep his head from lolling against the back of his chair. He cursed the disease again, though it seemed to be leaving him. He wanted to go up and check on Elicia, as well. They'd moved her back upstairs to her baby room, as illness was now less worrisome than some strange creature randomly breaking in the back door, and slaughtering anyone in reach.

Central was suddenly an unbearably dangerous place. He wondered if he could send Gracia and Elicia out to live with his parents in Souss. Would they be any safer out there? Would they agree to go? Would he last a week without them?

Hughes wanted to blame Summer. He really did. She brought so much trouble with her and she wouldn't listen to a single caution from him, but she never did anything intentionally cruel. She was a damned saint about most things and she'd tried to leave and take the danger with her. He was the one who assumed this would all be simple. She dropped into his lap announcing conspiracies, alchemy and evil government plots. How could he ever have thought things would be simple?

"I just want to do a quick search," Al said, regaining his attention. "I'll be back in an hour," the sleepless metal boy promised.

"It will take days to do even a cursory search of Central," Hughes reminded him. "Unless you know where she's gone to fight those things?"

Al shook his head, filling the room with a soft clanking. "I was going to go by Central Headquarters and then the refugee camps. She's usually at one or the other, and Central is where she sees those things most often, you said."

Hughes rubbed at his face. He'd told Al what Summer had told him as they sat by the door, about the creature that stole faces and the others whose abilities weren't known. Al was probably the only one there who could give those things even a token resistance, and Hughes wanted him to be prepared. He wanted Al to be around, to get Ed, Gracia, and Elicia out of there if something came for them.

Hughes frowned at the now-cold cup of coffee in front of him. He'd broken into Summer's reserve and he wasn't sorry about it. He wondered how long he'd be able to stay awake. His hand went to the holster, oddly strapped on over his pajamas. He couldn't risk leaving it in hand if he was startled away by a family member.

"Can you be back in three hours?" Hughes asked.

"Yes, sir," Al said. "I promise. I'll even bring a watch."

"Be careful, and if you find her and she tells you to leave, leave, alright?"

Al nodded.

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The metal boy left the house quickly and suddenly. Sloth shifted slightly. She hadn't heard the phone ring, but it could be some prearranged appointment. She considered the situation for a long moment. If the Slayer returned to the house while she was gone, their Master would be upset by a missed opportunity. But then again, the boy could lead her right to her target without risking a confrontation with the Fullmetal Alchemist. And it would be very difficult to get the boy to work for them if they slaughtered his friends in front of him. Humans were so finicky that way. She couldn't believe she used to be one.

Sloth shook off the ice that had built up, and slinked after Alphonse Elric.

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Lust leaned in on her blades as the pinned woman kicked and struggled. She wasn't a normal human. That was clear enough, as she wasn't dead. Still, it wasn't her job to contemplate. She pulled one bloody hand free and swung her blades around, preparing to separate the girl's head from her body. A sudden pain in her wrists surprised her, as did the sudden weight slamming into her side. She stumbled forward and ended up with a knee on the floor. Her severed hands flailed a little as they dissolved in purple sparks.

Lust turned to glare at a short man in torn and bloody scrubs as he rolled away from her, a sword in his hands. She was even more put out by the fact that the Slayer had pulled free from her other blades and was on her feet again. Lust's claws were already regenerating, but it was still annoying. She wondered how he'd gotten into the room, but then noticed the crumpled remains of a vent cover still wobbling on the floor by the wall.

"Told you…Boss…" the man said as he staggered upright only to fall again. "…told you…"

Lust slashed towards him but the Slayer leapt over her, scooping the injured man up and rushing him across the room. It was a rather impressive feat for someone with only one functional leg.

"Told you, Boss…" he said again as the Slayer laid him carefully on the floor.

"I know," she replied. "Hang in there, alright? Let me borrow your sword?"

The man didn't really seem able to hold it anymore, anyway. He nodded and the Slayer took the sword from his now-limp hands.

"Are you any good with that?" Lust asked as the Slayer stalked toward her.

The other woman lunged forward, rolling under Lust's swipe. Lust leapt backwards, but not fast enough. The blade sliced through her legs right below the knee. The Slayer threw herself to the side to avoid Lust's claws, but darted in again. The sword came down and Lust's head and body parted ways. It was dark for a moment, but as her eyes finished regenerating, she saw the Slayer sent flying as Envy hit her from the side. She hit the wall so hard the stone cracked.

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Summer tried to stand, but something in her spine grated and her legs wouldn't listen. She glared blearily at Envy and Lust as they stalked towards her. Behind them she saw Dorchet flopping around on the floor. Whoever he was fighting before he ran down here had nearly gutted him. Marta was slumped against the wall next to Ulchi. Loa was still on his feet, holding Gluttony up off the ground to keep him out of the fight. She was wondering where Gabriel had gotten to when the huge feral chimera bowled Lust to the ground and sank his fangs into her neck. Purple sparks flew around his muzzle as he tried to tear faster than she could regenerate.

Envy moved to kick Gabriel off his fellow creature but Summer threw herself at him, literally. Her hands clamped on the loose stone in the floor and she pushed as hard as she could. The lunge was incredibly clumsy, but Envy was forced to jump back to keep her bowling his legs out of under him. He didn't go very far, though. As Summer tried to launch herself again, Envy swept her arms out of under her and she fell on her face.

"I'm going to tear you into little pieces," the homunculus said as he grabbed her arm and wrenched it out of the socket.

"That's a waste of a perfectly good girl," a muffled voice interrupted.

Envy turned as a clawed hand punched through his chest. The claws were much shorter then Lust's, but apparently pretty sharp. A flailing, shrieking, Envy was thrown to the other side of the room. Summer blinked up at her rescuer. His entire body was covered in a matte black armor, except for his mouth, which sported large interlocking teeth and almost porcine tusks, and his eyes, which were tiny purple dots sunk deep in his head.

"Greed?" Summer asked, finally pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Hey, Doll," he said, his voice still muffled. "I came to see what was taking you so damned long."

Envy charged at him again, but Greed casually slammed his fist down on the other homunculus's head. It bounced off the ground with a wet splattering sound. Summer pulled herself around, and spotted the sword a few yards away. She dragged herself to it, and then crawled back to Lust, stabbing the homunculus through the side and chopping at her hands as Gabriel continued to rip out the back of her neck.

Ten minutes later, things hadn't changed much. Greed kept Envy busy while Summer and Gabriel kept cutting Lust down before she could regenerate enough to do them harm. The big problem was the homunculi could keep this up longer than they could.

"Not that this isn't fun," Greed said, as he eyed the now red-faced Loa as he started to stagger under Gluttony's weight, "But how are we planning to end this?"

Summer shifted a little. Her back seemed to have put itself mostly right, and her sliced leg had stopped bleeding, though function was still iffy.

"Is there any way to finish them off?" Summer asked.

"Not unless one of your chimera is an alchemist," Greed said as he blocked a kick from Envy and tore the other's foot off.

Summer looked over at Marta and Ulchi, though not slowing her dicing of Lust. The two were twitching and starting to come around. She didn't think they were alchemists. If they had such a talent, she was sure they'd have said something.

"Can we throw them in the pit I got you out of?" She asked.

"Good thinking, Doll," he said. "Knew there was a reason I kept you around."

Summer scowled at him, but he didn't seem concerned by it.

It took nearly half an hour to juggle the tasks of lifting four-ton doors, beating down homunculi to keep them under control, and tossing them into the pit, but they finally did it. According to Greed, since they didn't have pieces of the original bodies of the homunculi, the pit wouldn't really seal them, it would only sap their strength and leave them disoriented. That was good enough for Summer, though. She peered over the edge of the hole as Envy tried to leap back out. He didn't make it even halfway.

"They'll get out," Greed said.

"Then let's get gone before they do," Summer said.

She was wondering where the soldiers were while all this was going on, but she supposed they expected the homunculi to win and were waiting for them to give the all clear. She hurried back to the red water room, lifting the doors with Loa's help as Greed apparently thought he'd done enough work for the day. Marta knelt by Dorchet, trying to configure a torn military uniform into bandages for the injured man's gushing abdomen.

"What got you?" Greed asked, as his armor melted back in shower of purple sparks, revealing his face.

"Haunted armor named Slicer," he answered faintly. "Caught me right after I shut the gas off. Bastard backed me into a corner."

"How'd you get away?" Marta asked as she tore the uniform into strips.

"Being a canine chimera, I know all the tricks," Dorchet joked through gritted teeth. "Fetch, roll over, and of course, _play dead_."

"You mean-" Summer said, waving at the blood.

"Yup," Dorchet said. "Fetch worked like a charm."

Greed halfway concealed an amused snort.

Summer watched tensely as Marta put the bandage in place. Dorchet gave a high-pitched whine at the contact and his eyes rolled back into his head as she tied it tight. Summer picked him up, and Loa helped a still-wobbly Ulchi to his feet.

"When we get outside," Summer said, "You all head for Oak Street. I'm going to come back here and take care of things, and then catch up."

"What are you planning?" Greed asked.

"I left a bag of dynamite up on the roof," she said with a feral grin. "It would be a shame to waste it."

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Elem knew he was a coward. Almost every day something reminded him of that fact. He'd fled from Ishbal when the State Alchemists of Amestris entered the battle. He'd surrendered rather than fight when the military had taken their caravan into custody a few months ago. He'd submitted to their horrible experiments, because he was afraid to resist after his cousin did and was killed for it. And now he was running again, as a girl in a strange mask fought the monsters who'd imprisoned him.

He was in the presence of monsters, and yet they were braver and more loyal than he. He might have told himself it was because they weren't human, so they really had nothing to lose, but he had seen the looks they exchanged, the helping hands when one fell. They'd even helped him to his feet when he'd slipped in the filth of the sewer. He heard them speak and he knew that most of them were from the Amestrian military. Their leaders had betrayed them, and turned them into horrible creatures, but didn't they deserve it for what they had done?

He tried to empty his mind and focus on putting one foot in front of the next. Even the most vile of them, the purple-eyed creature, whom Elem knew from Ishbalan legend was a dead man brought back from hell, had gone back to fight its own kind. He wished there was a priest about to consult. What was right and wrong in a situation like this? "My enemies' enemy is my friend" seemed much too simple. Were there any priests left to consult?

"Up here!" the lizard man, Bido, called from his perch on the ceiling of the tunnel. The chimera pushed up a manhole cover and vanished from view. "The street's empty!" he called back.

Most of the chimera leapt up to a twisted ladder and crawled out. Even the deformed creatures that now walked on four legs managed to jump, scrabble and claw their way through the narrow circle of starlight. Elem jumped, but his legs were weak from wading through half-frozen sludge and he couldn't reach even the bottom rung. He froze in shock as clawed hands grabbed him around the waist.

Then he was lifted up. The lizard man caught his arm and helped him up through the hole. Elem fell to his knees in the alley as the others milled about uncertainly. The four-legged chimera circled, sniffing the air warily.

"…many…people…upwind…" ground out one of the dog like creatures. "…poor…sick…cold…a camp…"

Elem had heard of the refugee camps around Central. He supposed that would be as good a place as any to start. If any of his own people were there, they would probably help to hide them, though where eight monstrosities like the four-legged chimera could hide, he did not know.

"Well, now what?" Bido asked.

Elem tried not to look at his lashing tail.

"There may be Ishbalans in the camp," one of the other unaltered humans said. "Our people will hide us, all of us," the man finished confidently.

"We should make a run for it," one chimera said. He was almost normal-looking except for his pointed ears, which were twitching slightly. "People like us got no chance of hiding in Central. Maybe in the south--Dublith or Melthith…" he said, trailing off.

None of the chimera objected, though starting across a frozen plain in the middle of the night while already exhausted and starving didn't seem very appealing. He supposed when compared to a plague-ridden city filled with monsters who hunted you and soldiers who would shoot you made it look better than any other set of circumstances could have.

A growl shook him from his thoughts again. A four-legged chimera darted towards them from the mouth of the alley.

"…soldiers…truck…searchlight…down…" it rasped out.

They scattered. Some climbed the walls of the alley, others pressed against the walls. A few, like Elem, just threw themselves face down in the sludge. The truck rolled by, and for a moment the alley was awash with yellow light. There were no shouts and the truck rolled on.

They divided up, then. The chimera took off for the nearest city wall, on four legs and two. Elem didn't know if he was glad or not after they vanished into the night. Eventually, a man named Salle got the ten human escapees collected and moving toward the camp the chimera had smelled. It finally came in sight at the end of a long street. The camp was a forbidding and cold collection of shacks. The streetlights didn't extend into it, and the only light past the unguarded checkpoint was a fire in a barrel at least two hundred yards distant.

Still Elem's heart was nearly bursting with joy as he saw one of the shacks had the Ishbalan glyph for peace painted on the side in gaudy yellow. The people around him saw it too, and they were nearly running toward the camp when an amused voice brought them up short.

"Going somewhere?" the voice asked.

The small group drew in on itself, and Elem found himself closest to the man walking out of the side street. It was a soldier in a long blue coat, but he didn't appear to be carrying a weapon. Elem saw the man had a cast on his arm. For all that, he was unusually relaxed. Then the man passed beneath the street lamp, and Elem saw his face.

The Flame alchemist, the man who helped burn Ishbal to the ground in a single night, was walking towards them.

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Edward Elric opened his eyes and groaned. There was someone standing over him, leaning in to peer at his face. Ed blearily thought it was kind of annoying, but at least it wasn't another explosion. That had woken even him, and then the phone rang, and then Hughes had dragged him downstairs a few minutes later because he'd been called in to work and a car was coming for him.

Ed didn't understand much of what Hughes had hurried to explain as he settled Ed in the armchair facing the door. Something about monsters and Al having gone looking for Summer and guarding the house. Hughes' offer of his sidearm had kept Ed nervously conscious for half an hour after he left, but his swimming head and the warm blanket Hughes had left with him had won out over confused adrenalin. Ed peered at the yellow slit eyes and sharp teeth that hovered before him. He wondered how long he'd slept.

Ed blinked. The strange, scaly face was still there. Something about the situation just wasn't right. His fevered brain finally got the message: _something very dangerous is very close to you, move!_

Ed went to act upon this command by his brain, but his disease-ravaged body wasn't exactly in the best condition to comply. He flailed, tipped, and knocked his chair over backwards, tumbling from it in a tangle of blankets and limbs.

"Whoa, check out the hardware!" the reptilian man said, as he stalked around the toppled chair.

He grabbed at Ed's automail foot, but Ed scrambled back. The man kept coming. Ed clapped his hands together and then slapped them down on the floor. Jagged spears of wood tore up through the carpet, nearly skewering the huge man, who threw himself to the side just in time.

Ed noticed other people coming into the room now. Another giant, even larger than the reptile man, ducked through the door from the kitchen. A man in a dark bodysuit with a pale face and a sharp-toothed smirk came around past him.

"Hey, Doll," the smirking man called back over his shoulder. "You didn't tell me you had an alchemist."

"Damn it, Greed!" a familiar voice growled from the kitchen.

A woman pushed her way past the three large men who were now surrounding Ed in his little nest of transmuted spears. It was dark, and her face was dirty, but he recognized her just from her bossy walk.

"Summer, what the hell-" Ed growled before his own explosive coughing stole his voice.

She slipped around the spears, and caught him under the arms, pulling him to his feet. She put his blanket back around his shoulders and walked him through the living room past the strangers. They turned to follow. She settled Ed in a chair in the corner of the kitchen and pressed a glass of water into his hands, and then helped him raise it to his mouth because he was shaking too hard. When he was breathing normally again, she bent down in front of him.

The light was better in the kitchen and he realized her face wasn't just dirty, it was covered in smudged clay paint, and her outfit, though incredibly filthy, was made of patches. Well, he supposed that was one mystery solved. Summer was the Scrap Demon.

"What the hell?" he said.

"I'll explain that later. I need to know where Hughes and Al are," she said.

"Not until-"

She grabbed his shoulders. "Short stuff, I don't have time for this. I need to talk to Hughes."

Ed wanted to scream at her to make time (and not to call him Short stuff), but she sounded scared rather than bossy for once, so he kept it to himself.

"A military car came by to pick him up," Ed said, hoarsely. "I don't know why, except there was a big explosion downtown somewhere a little before he got called in. I'm not really sure what time that was, but he wanted me to be by the door if anything happed. He said something about monsters."

"Why isn't Al watching?" she asked.

"Hughes said he went looking for you," Ed said, feeling angry again. "Did he know about this?" he asked, tugging on her patchwork sleeve.

She nodded.

"So what's-"

She cut off his question again.

"Dorchet needs a doctor," she said, pointing.

Ed turned to look and saw there was a man laid out on the Hughes' kitchen table. The man was a bloody wreck. He was covered in dozens of cuts, and a blood-soaked bandage covered almost his entire belly.

"What happened?" Ed asked again.

"Ok, it's like this," Summer said. "The military has been conducting illegal alchemic experiments on soldiers, prisoners, and random people they've grabbed off of the street. We had a bit of a breakout at their secret evil lab, and there were casualties. Any idea where we can find a surgeon in the middle of the night?"

Ed blinked, trying to process. He supposed that explained the reptile man.

"Uh…..I don't know…I'm not from around Central." He paused for a moment. "Does the phone work?"

Another woman, with a tattoo on her neck and cheek and a bandage on her head, stepped out of the shadows and picked up the receiver. "There's a dial tone," she said.

With Summer's help, Ed stumbled to the receiver, and under the stares of half-a-dozen strangers, he started to dial. He hoped Hughes wouldn't be too mad about the long-distance bill. He could always blame Summer, he supposed. The operator yawned and patched him through to Resembul. It took twenty rings to get an answer.

"What?" a surly female voice bellowed.

Ed winced and held the phone back. "Uh…hey Granny Pinako, it's me," Ed started.

"Ed? What the hell is wrong with you?" the elderly woman demanded. "It's two in the damned morning, you demented micro-midget! You better not be in jail!"

Ed fumed as he realized most of the lab escapees were smirking at him. "Listen, you pint-sized hag!" he bellowed back. "I need to know if you know any good surgeons in Central, who can be found in the middle of the night to operate on a dying person of questionable character!"

As soon as he got the question out, he collapsed in Summers' arms in a fit of coughing. The receiver fell from his hands.

"Ed? Ed are you still there, kid? Answer me!"

"…here…" he wheezed.

"You in trouble, kid?" she asked.

"When am I not?" he said, sarcastically. "But this time, it's not my fault!" he added.

The old woman snorted.

"Right. A surgeon you said?" she paused. "What kind of injury?"

"Guts ripped open," Ed said.

"Hmmmmm. Most of my old buddies are automail surgeons…but around Central…you might try Jorn Fisher. He used to be a combat surgeon before he got into automail. He used to live out in Stonewarren, you know, that ugly neighborhood by the sewer works? Lancy Street, I think he was on. 207 Lancy Street. If he hasn't drunk himself to death yet, he's probably there."

"Thanks, Granny," Ed said.

"You owe me another one kid. Try to be a little less stupid for once, instead of just little."

"You shrunken old-"

"Bye, kid."

She hung up.

He turned toward Summer to relay the information, but she was already moving away. Ed leaned against the wall.

"Lancy Street," she called. "Got it. Guys, keep an eye on Short stuff for me, Ok?" she called as she slipped out the door.

Ed looked from the slammed door, to the lizard man, to the tattooed woman, to the giant, and finally to the pale, smirking man with the sharp teeth. He pulled his blanket more securely around him, and wished he was wearing something a little more intimidating then flannel pajamas.

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**Author's Note:** Sorry about the wait, I'm trying to keep, like, six stories going at once now, and it's not working out as well as I planned. Next chapter we'll find out what's up with Al and Mustang. This wasn't too cliffy, right? Don't forget to review!


	17. Chapter 17

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Work it Out**

Mustang had seen several trucks of soldiers patrolling, but had managed to avoid being spotted by them. He'd heard bits of reports coming from their radios as they passed. Reports on the "prison break" were echoing up and down the alleys of Central, and shoot-on-sight orders had been given. He wondered what had happened to raise the stakes. It probably had something to do with the explosion he'd heard about an hour before. He was considering returning to the barracks or Hughes' house when he saw the group rushing down the street toward the refugee camp.

They were Ishbalans, and he knew they recognized him. Several of them were starting to sweat despite the freezing weather. They looked and smelled as if they had crawled through a sewer, and their clothing was torn and bloody. He knew there weren't many Ishbalans in Central prison. When they were accused of crimes, they didn't tend to live long enough for sentencing. Military secrets and Ishbalans--that was a familiar combination. Answers weren't usually involved, but he didn't think a few questions would cause him any major problems.

"And what are you gentlemen doing out at this time of night?" Mustang asked. "There is a curfew in effect."

They looked amongst themselves, then back the way they came. A few looked up at the sky as if an answer might present itself from that unlikely angle. Mustang studied them under the streetlight. Details were hard to pick out, but a few of them had short sleeves, and their exposed skin bore needle tracks. That was very odd, since Ishbalans were as opposed to narcotics as they were to alchemy.

"We're sorry, sir," one of them said, stepping forward. "It's just rumor got around that Central Hospital was putting out clothing in their dumpsters because their incinerator was down."

It was obviously a lie, but their leader kept eye contact.

"And you decided it would be a good idea to get contaminated clothing, in the middle of a plague quarantine, in the middle of the night, and wear said clothing immediately, without washing it first?" Mustang said.

"It's better than what we had, Sir," the man said.

"Nice try," Mustang said. "But we're all going to the processing office-"

"Sir?!" a familiar voice called. "Colonel Mustang, Sir?!"

Mustang glanced up the street without taking his eyes off the men he was detaining. A tall figure was walking towards them, making hollow clanking sounds as his boots hit the cobblestones. The Ishbalans started to shake and crowd together as they saw the suit of armor with red glowing eyes, despite said armor's rather timid approach.

"What are you doing here, Al?" Mustang demanded, rather bewildered that the boy had left the Hughes' house unguarded.

"Oh, hello," Al said rather absently to the collection of poorly dressed prisoners as he came to a stop. "Excuse me, sir," he said, turning to Mustang. "But have you seen the Scrap Demon anywhere tonight?"

"What?" Mustang said, rather annoyed.

"You know, the short girl with the face paint and patchwork suit, goes around fighting crime…" Al trailed off as the Colonel glared at him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Mustang saw the prisoners exchanging looks.

"I know who she is. Why are you out here when you should be home?"

Al paused for a moment, and then looked around at the prisoners again. He seemed to really notice them, then.

"Sir?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"This isn't your concern, Alphonse. Go home and take care of your brother."

"Colonel Mustang, Sir," Al said. "I need to find her. I'm supposed to be back already, but then I saw you-"

"We saw her!" another Ishbalan said, suddenly.

The others turned to glare at the man, which Mustang thought probably meant he was telling the truth when he shouldn't have been.

"She told us where to get these clothes," the man said, starting to ramble. "She's probably still there, by Central Hospital, I mean. You can probably still find her around there if you hurry."

That was a lie, but the involvement of the Scrap Demon seemed to ring true. If he took them to processing and they mentioned her, they'd probably never come out and he'd never get his answers. He thought he might be able to terrorize a few answers out of them, but he'd need to get Al to leave first…

His thoughts refocused as he saw another person walking up the street. He blinked once, but that didn't clear things up at all. A woman, in a dark purple evening gown, was still coming towards him. Her head was bent and her dark hair hung limp and dripping. She had pale skin and a familiar face, but he couldn't place her.

"This will never do," the woman said softly, as she finally raised her head to look at them. Her eyes were purple and the pupils were slit like a cat's.

The Ishbalans seemed to recognize her, and much to Mustang's surprise they edged towards him for protection.

"Mom?" Al asked in a very small voice.

Mustang was about to ask the armor boy what the hell he was talking about when the woman surged forward. For a moment he thought a water main had burst behind her and was somehow propelling her at him, but his gaze drifted down and he saw her lower body wasn't there any longer. He'd just begun altering the air around him for a fire when the woman crashed into him and water from nowhere closed over his head.

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Brigadier General Gran looked at the remains of Lab 5 and struggled not to kill one of the incompetent little cockroaches that rushed back and forth before him, shouting about rescue crews and building code violations. He didn't need to wait for the report to tell him that the building hadn't collapsed on its own. It hadn't even collapsed through activation of the 'self destruct' charges set throughout the building, though those had gone off as well. From the way things had blown up and out, it was fairly obvious a rather large explosive device had been dropped into the center of the lab, probably through the incinerator smokestack.

There was a sudden concentrated burst of babbling from the radio center they had set up in front of the prison across the street. He glanced in that direction and saw a Lt. running towards him.

"Sir! Fuhrer President King Bradley is on his way here to inspect the damage, sir!" the young soldier said, and then retreated as if he sensed being within Gran's reach at that moment was a very bad idea.

The Fuhrer's pet homunculi had gone in, and made things worse. Gran frowned, wondering if they had been destroyed in the explosion. It didn't seem likely. Were it up to him, he would just bring in more explosives and destroy the rest of the evidence, but if the Fuhrer's creatures didn't surface soon, they might be ordered to excavate. He supposed he could use labor from the prison, as the disappearance of two or three dozen of the condemned wouldn't raise any eyebrows. It never had before.

His teeth ground together as he marched to the radio center, with junior officers scattering before him.

"Report," Gran ordered.

The two sergeants manning the radios exchanged horrified looks. Finally the older one spoke. "Sir, no sign of escaped prisoners, though the search continues according to the parameters you set. The Scrap Demon was sighted in Stonewarren fifteen minutes ago, and two more squads have been diverted to the area to assist in the apprehension of said fugitive."

Gran nodded, though he didn't expect anything to come of it.

"Sir," a voice called from behind him.

He turned to see Major Flyn, one of the officers to escape the explosion that destroyed the lab. A quick hand gesture told Gran he had something to discuss in private. Flyn lead them quickly over to the rubble, out of hearing of the other scrambling officers.

"Several of the Guards are AWOL," Flyn said.

Gran clenched his fists. The Guards, souls of the condemned forced into armor, were infinitely useful, but not the most stable of employees. The homunculi were the only thing that really kept them in line.

"Are you sure they weren't destroyed in the explosion?" Gran asked.

Flyn shook his head. "Half an hour ago, I checked in with the fall back area. Several of the Guards reported in as well as assorted researchers who managed to make it out of the building. Captain Warren arrived just before I spoke with you. He reported three of the researches had been killed, and that Barry the Chopper and the Slicer were missing."

Gran wondered if things could get any worse.

"General Gran, Sir!"

"General Gran, Sir!"

He marched away from the ruins as the junior officers demanded his presence.

"General Gran, Sir! The Fuhrer is here and he wants your report!"

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Ed sat on the stairs. Summer seemed to think these people could be trusted, but his faith in her faith wasn't exactly strong. He figured things would just be a lot better if they didn't go upstairs. The further they were from Gracia and Elicia, the better. Plus, from there he didn't have to see the guy bleeding to death on the kitchen table, though if asked, he'd say he was staying as far away as possible so as not to breathe plague germs on an injured man.

"So…Short stuff," the smirking man Summer had called Greed said. "What're you about?"

"MY NAME IS NOT SHORT STUFF!" Ed bellowed before going into a coughing fit that nearly toppled him off the stairs.

Greed slapped his palm against the side of his head as if trying to clear ringing from his ears.

"Then why does she call you that?" Greed asked, smirking.

"Because she is annoying," he replied, wheezing. "My name is Ed."

"You're an alchemist," Greed said.

"Yeah, so what?" Ed growled.

"Feisty little thing, aren't you?" he asked.

Ed kicked him in the knee as hard as he could with his automail foot, but the man didn't seem to feel it. Greed just kept smirking.

"If I wasn't sick, I'd kick your ass!" Ed threatened.

"Sure you can reach that high, brat?" Greed asked.

Ed was about to launch himself from the steps when the tattooed woman slithered between them.

"Hey Greed," she said. "How about cutting the kid a break? Slayer'll be mad if her alchemist has an aneurysm."

Greed eyed her for a moment and then shrugged.

"Guess I'll talk to you a _little_ later, kid," he said as he turned and wandered back into the kitchen, smirking.

"Could a' taken him," Ed grumbled.

"Maybe on your best day and his worst, but it seems to be the opposite of that at the moment," she said. "I'm Marta, by the way."

"Edward Elric," he replied, nodding rather than offering a germy hand.

"You know alchemy?"

Ed nodded.

"Is there anything you can do for Dorchet?" she asked.

Ed knew she was trying to sound bored, but her voice had some painful hope in it. He shook his head.

"If I was any good at human transmutation, I'd probably still have my arm and leg," Ed said, waving his automail to prove he wasn't jerking them around.

She nodded. Ed tried to think of something to say when a shadow moved outside the front door.

"What's that?" he whispered.

"It's Gabriel," Marta said. "Another lab escapee."

"Why's he out there?" Ed asked.

"Slayer said he should probably stay away from you so you wouldn't freak out," Marta said.

Ed wondered what could be so awful they'd just assume he'd freak out. He was pretty much used to the chimera by now, though the crocodile man annoyed him greatly. He couldn't tell what the others were mixed with, but they were much…more stable than any human chimera he'd seen before. Though in truth he'd only seen one other, and that he didn't want to think about. He probably wouldn't have known Loa, Marta, and Dorchet were anything but regular humans if they hadn't said anything. Greed had been close-mouthed about his origins, but Ed could tell something was off about him.

"It's fine," Ed said. "He shouldn't freeze."

Marta nodded and opened the door. The creature slinked in. It looked like someone had fused a lion and an alligator, but the eyes showed intelligence. He hoped it'd be gone by the time Al got home. The chimera still had cat ears, and that was probably enough for Al to declare him an inseparable best friend for life. It…Gabriel looked through the living room, sniffing at the furniture before approaching Ed on the staircase. The teenager had a sudden sick feeling in his stomach, but did his best to cover it and remain polite.

"Nice to meet you," Ed said, holding out his flesh and blood hand. "I'm Ed."

The chimera lifted a paw and settled it on top. "…I'm…Gabriel…" he replied with obvious strain.

Ed looked at the paw. It wasn't quite a paw exactly, the clawed fingers, though very stubby and no longer opposable, were still separable, like Nina's had been.

"Who did this to you?" Ed muttered. He was talking to himself mostly, but the chimera answered.

"…Tucker…"

The world stopped spinning.

"What?!" Ed whispered, his voice trying to abandon him.

"The Alchemist is named Tucker," Marta repeated.

"Shou Tucker?" Ed growled. "About five nine, stoop shoulders, glasses and a kind of high whistling voice?"

Marta raised an eyebrow. "Shou Tucker, about seven feet tall, pointy ears and just about the most #$&'ed up chimera you've ever seen. Creep voice and glasses sound right, though."

Ed's brain shut down and he shook. Tucker was still alive, still doing horrible things, just like he'd done to Nina.

"Where?" Ed asked.

"What?" Marta asked.

"Where is Tucker?" Ed demanded, getting shakily up from his seat on the steps.

"He was at the lab we escaped from, by Central prison," Marta said, trailing Ed as he stumbled towards the door. "He's probably been squashed by now. The Slayer blew the building into kingdom-come."

"Tucker…" Ed said, finding it almost as hard to speak as the chimera did. "Tucker was executed…by a firing squad, too…I've got to make sure this time."

"And you running out in the street in your pajamas and freezing before you get to the end of the block will accomplish this how?" Marta asked.

Ed growled and flopped down on the floor.

"Where do you know Tucker from?" Marta asked.

"I used to live at his house," Ed said.

At Marta's insistence, he told them what he knew of the Sewing Life Alchemist. Though confessing his failure to Tucker's next victims didn't do much for conscience, it killed the hour it took for Summer to get back with the surgeon.

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Very suddenly there was air again. Mustang gasped and choked. He flopped over and got up shaking on his hands and knees. There was a wall in front of him that hadn't been there before. He tried to put his head in order as shouting and explosions echoed around the wall. Leaning against it, he got to his feet, and made his way around.

Mustang knew he couldn't have been out for more than a couple of minutes, but the street was already in chaos. The small group of escaped Ishbalan…whatever they were, were dodging blasts of water from the strange melting woman who'd taken him out. He saw Al scribbling away at a wall, and a moment later a stone spike flew out of it, passing straight through the woman's middle. There was no gush of blood or snapping of bones, just a splash as the spike passed through one side of her and out the other. Al started to draw another transmutation circle but the woman lashed out at him, with an arm that suddenly turned into a torrent of water.

The suit of armor was flung away with the barest of efforts, slamming into the side of a building with a resounding clang. Al's helmet bounced off and rolled down the street and his chest plate popped loose as the steel warped under the stress. One of the Ishbalans moved toward Al, but when he saw the armor was empty, he backpedaled in terror.

The woman sighed and pushed her hair out of her face with a hand that was once again solid. Mustang recognized her then, more washed out and dressed in an evening gown, but it was most definitely the Furher's secretary raising hell in the street. He supposed she had to be one of Hughes' "dead that don't stay dead". He couldn't think of another explanation.

Mustang looked at his ignition cloth gloves--the right one was soaked, but the one on his broken arm was just fine. The cast must have protected it, or kept the water woman from noticing it, at least. He snapped his fingers, and though it sent pain shooting up his forearm, the sparks were enough to let him dry out his other glove.

Unfortunately, the little specks of flame drew the water woman's attention, and she rushed towards him. A miniature tornado of dense oxygen whirled away from his hand. When it had just started to muss her hair, he snapped his fingers again.

The fire exploded outward and she flew apart and backwards for all of a second, but in the next moment she was back together and rushing him again, a little steam was all his efforts produced. He fed more oxygen into the next transmutation. It seemed to be taking an unusually long time to get the mix right. The woman flew apart again, this time of her own volition, forming a wave.

Mustang snapped his fingers.

The wave boiled away, steam rising up in the air. Purple energy arced through it like lightning. For a moment he thought he'd killed the thing. He looked down the street and saw Al strapping his chest plate back on, and the last of the Ishbalans vanishing into the camp. The lightning in the cloud of steam grew more intense and he refocused on it. Against all reason the cloud began to condense again. Mustang snapped his fingers again, using alchemy to drag more oxygen, using every effort to make the heat more intense. The steam just came right back together again.

He snapped his fingers again, and again and again.

Everything refused to make sense. Alphonse Elric watched as the liquid creature pulled itself back together after each of the Colonel's attacks. He couldn't figure out where it was getting the energy to do that, or why the intense blasts of heat were having so little effect in the first place. Most of all, he couldn't figure out why the creature looked so much like Trisha Elric, the mother he and Ed had tried, and failed, to raise from the dead.

He forced it out of his head as other things took precedence. The creature had been trying to drown the colonel and the poor people he'd been talking to when Al arrived. That wasn't something his mother would have done, anyway, he told himself. Al made sure all his pieces were once again firmly attached, knelt in the street, and began to draw.

He finished his transmutation circle, and called out a warning.

It just wasn't working. Whatever energy was holding the cloud together was greater than Mustang could counter. He was sweating so badly the ignition cloth of his gloves was starting to soak through again. His vision swam. He wondered if he'd used up too much energy to transmute, but then realized his problem was much bigger as he tried to catch his breath. He was using up way too much of the local oxygen supply to make his fires. If he didn't come up with something soon, he'd smother himself before the water woman had a chance to drown him.

As it turned out, he didn't have to.

"Get back, Sir!" Alphonse Elric shrieked.

Mustang stumbled backwards, still throwing fire as the ground around him shuddered.

Al watched as the pavement tore itself up, curling into a ball around the thrashing creature that flickered between liquid and vapor as flames and purple light alternated through it. Al forced more energy into the reaction. On its own, the concrete and paving stones that made up the street were too porous to contain the creature which had flowed like water out of his other alchemic attacks. The still-reactive sphere closed up, cutting off the colonel's flame attacks. Now containment was entirely up to Al.

For the hundredth time he wished his older brother was there. All Ed needed to do was clap his hands and he could do all the other work in his head. Al still needed to draw it all out, redirecting energy through the desired molecules. Al approached the sphere and began to scribble on the side with his chalk. It was a purification array he'd picked up from a book on alchemic mining their father had owned. He completed the array and pressed his hands to it.

The sphere of pavement condensed, going from fifty feet across to merely ten, shedding porous concrete and water molecules from the hodgepodge of matter that had made up the street. The denser metals collected around the creature, and though he could no longer hear it through the sphere, he felt the vibrations as it flailed around.

It was time for the final step. Al had left some empty space in the center of the sphere, not with the intention of allowing the liquid creature to move, but rather to keep it from expanding and wearing against the inside of the sphere during temperature changes. If the metal contracted from the cold in opposition to the water expanding, it risked cracking the sphere. Al sighed at the troublesome nature of hydrogen bonding as he scribbled out another array, and froze the thing in the middle of its metal prison.

"Alphonse?" Mustang asked, as he ran his sleeve across his forehead. "Will that hold it?"

"I think so, sir," Al said. "I'm going to add a few more layers to the outside, just in case. I don't really know what to do with it, though."

Mustang frowned as well. If they turned it in to the military, they'd let it out, intentionally or not.

"Why…why did she look like my mom?" Al asked.

Mustang swallowed, watching the towering suit of armor hunch and wrap its arms around itself like a scared child. He thought the creature looked like the Fuhrer's secretary, when it was bothering to be solid.

"Hughes said one of them could copy faces," Al said. "But where would it have seen my mom?"

"A picture, maybe?" Mustang suggested tiredly.

"But we burned our house down!" Al said. "There aren't any pictures left."

Mustang sighed. "We'll have to worry about that later, Alphonse. For now we have to get rid of that thing, and get out of here before someone sees the mess we made of the street."

Al looked back over the rubble and trenches created by their battle of alchemy. He nodded sheepishly, and they started walking, Al rolling the sphere along.

"I think we should bury it," Mustang said.

After several more silent blocks, Al said he knew of a good place.

The civilian graveyard was overgrown and the ground sludgy, but Al had no trouble transmuting it. The sphere sank into an empty patch of ground between plots. When the ground stopped rumbling, Al and Mustang went their separate ways, neither under the impression that the matter was settled.

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"Guys, this is Jorn Fisher," the Slayer announced.

The surgeon was a gangling skinny old man with oily white hair. The layers of filth around his fingernails brought to mind a gardener more than a doctor. He wasn't making a good impression on any other fronts, either. The man looked at the injured man on the table, then Greed and the chimeras, and finally settled his owlish gaze on the blond teenager standing in the corner of the kitchen.

"I thought you'd be taller by now," Fisher said.

"Excuse me?" Ed said.

"Well, the last picture your Granny sent me of you, you was nearly as big as you are now."

Ed tried to process that, wondering why Pinako Rockbell, the grouchy old automail mechanic who had taken in him and Al after their mother died, would be sending people pictures of him. He supposed it might have been a picture of himself and Al with Pinako's granddaughter Winry, since they played together all the time as kids.

"What picture?" Ed asked.

"It was a picture of you and Pinako in matching dresses and aprons, just about the cutest thing ever-"

Everyone in the room turned to look at Ed. Their expressions ranged from amusement to shock. Far too few shocked looks, in fact. Couldn't they tell this was a crazy man?

The old man just kept on rambling. "- and that little dog of yours with the automail leg-"

"I'm not Winry," Ed shouted, suddenly catching on.

The old man paused.

"Pinako has another Granddaughter?" he asked. "Well, you are the spitting image of your big sister-"

The man stopped talking as the sound of Ed's teeth grinding started to drown out every other sound in the room. Ed was trying very hard not to kill. Really he was. It was a miracle the senile old fool was still conscious and in possession of his teeth.

"This is Ed," Summer said, putting an arm around the teenager's shoulders to keep him from lunging.

The old man squinted. "Is that short for Edna?" Fisher asked.

Summer clamped her other hand over Ed's mouth. "Short for Edward," she supplied, as said alchemist descended into some sort of nuclear meltdown. "Can you have a look at Dorchet, please?"

The old man nodded and shuffled over to the table, hemming and hawing as he removed the bandages that had held the injured chimera's guts in place as they fled the lab.

"Do you have anything to work with?" the old man asked.

"Ed's an alchemist," Summer supplied. "He can make tools for you."

"Well why can't he just zap this guy back together?" Fisher asked.

Summer released Ed, though she was prepared to recapture him should he act upon the homicidal rage which now obviously possessed him.

"I'm not an organic alchemist," Ed growled, waving his automail arm in the man's face. "When I try, it doesn't turn out well, so stop being lazy and start sewing or whatever it is you came here to do!"

"Anyone here have medical experience?" Fisher asked.

"Only field first aid," Marta said, and Loa grunted.

Fisher went over their supplies. They didn't have much, but Ed was immediately put to work transmuting scalpels, tongs, needles, and clamps (a process which consumed nearly all of the Hughes' flatware) while the others boiled water for sterilization. The doctor started testing blood types, but because the people gathered there were either sick with plague, or not very human, no one was compatible. After a quick discussion, Summer rushed out to borrow a few pints of O- from…wherever she could find them. Ed and the doctor managed to put together a saline I.V. to keep Dorchet going while they waited.

The knock on the front door drew everyone's attention, since they were expecting Summer to come in the back. Ed went to answer it, with Marta and Ulchi standing in shadows behind him, in case of trouble. Ed smiled as he looked through the peephole and saw Al standing on the porch. He opened the door and was about to yell at Al for being late when he was yanked off his feet by Marta, while Ulchi charged out past him.

"It's one of those armor things!" Ulchi shouted, lunging at Al.

The youngest Elric slapped the punch aside and kicked the crocodile man in the gut, slamming him against the side of the Hughes' house.

"Let me go!" Ed bellowed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"It must have tracked us from the lab!" Marta said as Al knocked Ulchi down again.

Loa came running to the front of the house as well, with Greed and Gabriel right behind. Ed twisted and struggled in Marta's grip, but couldn't get loose.

"Let go!" Ed shouted again.

"That thing's out of your league, kid," Marta said. "Let us handle it."

"Stop, you idiots! That's my brother!" Ed yelled.

Either they weren't listening or didn't care. Al leapt back as Loa took a swing and the fight spilled into the middle of the street. Gabriel circled, snapping at Al as he dodged and blocked blows from the large bipedal chimera. Greed seemed content to watch while smirking.

"Al! Summer let crazy people in the house! Run and get Hughes!" Ed ordered, as he pulled Marta's hair in a last-ditch effort to make her let go.

She shrieked and pulled his hair in revenge, but he managed to get the rest of himself loose. He leapt forward, tumbling down the front steps and landing in a heap at the bottom. Slipping and sliding in the sludge and melted snow, he tackled Ulchi at the knees, clearing a path for Al to retreat in. Unfortunately, Ulchi fell backwards on top of Ed, squashing him nearly flat.

"What the Hell is going on?!" a shrill voice demanded from the end of the block.

Everyone froze.

Summer stormed up to them with a shopping bag full of bottled blood under her arm. She walked between the combatants, giving Loa and Al not-so-little shoves to separate them. She grabbed Ed's ankle and dragged him out of under Ulchi, and then dropped him in said chimera's lap.

"Al, what happened?" she demanded.

"I just knocked on the door and they attacked me. Also, that girl grabbed big brother and pulled his hair."

"He pulled my hair first," Marta said. "And that's one of those possessed suits of armor!" she added, pointing.

Summer growled and pressed her hand to her eyes, smearing her face paint.

"Ok, everybody," she said. "This is Alphonse Elric, Ed's brother. He lives here. He is not from the lab, and he doesn't work for the military. I told you about him."

"You didn't say he was one of those things," Marta said.

"He's not a thing!" Ed roared, trying to get up, but falling back on Ulchi again.

"Maybe we should discuss this inside?" Greed suggested, smirking as usual.

With much grumbling, glaring, and only a little more hair pulling they went back into the house. It took three hours to exchange stories, during which Summer, Marta, and Ed took turns assisting Fisher with the home surgery project. Nobody seemed to want to tell anyone the whole truth, of course, so there was much artful dodging and playing dumb, but as the sun came up, the assortment of freaks had come to something of an accord. They'd apparently taken out four homunculi, temporarily at least. Unfortunately, the Fuhrer was still in play, though Ed was not entirely convinced of his inhuman nature.

At six in the morning, Fisher declared he'd done all he could for Dorchet. The chimera had lost a few yards of intestines, his gall bladder, spleen and part of his stomach, but if infection didn't kill him, and the blood loss hadn't cost him too many brain cells, he'd probably make it. With that cheerful diagnosis, Summer escorted the old man home.

She got back to find Elicia awake and toddling around the kitchen after Gabriel, while Al cooked breakfast. Greed was paging through old newspapers that were piled up by the fireplace for kindling, and everyone else was sprawled out asleep on various pieces of furniture. She was about to go upstairs to change out of her costume when the front door opened.

Summer froze, realizing now that she could hear a car in front of the house. She relaxed a little as she recognized the heartbeat and breathing as Hughes. He was alone, at least. The exhausted Lt. Colonel waved behind him and the car drove off. He walked toward Summer, and seemed about to speak, but when he came into the living room, he froze and did a double take. He saw two massive chimera sleeping on the couches, Ed passed out across a couple of chairs, Marta snoring on the coffee table. Greed smirked at him and waved. Hughes rubbed his eyes, but that apparently didn't help. Summer shrugged rather helplessly.

"Just…" Hughes said. "Just tell me about it in eight hours, alright, Summer?"

She nodded. Hughes staggered up the steps to bed.

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**Author's Note:** Well this is the end of this particular plot arc, so it's a good place for people to stop and leave a review of the story thus far, hint, hint, wink, etc. It's not the end of the story, but there will be an interlude and a bit of time jump in the next chapter, so if you are paging back and going "what the hell?" then hopefully this will give you some direction. Also, many thanks to my readers for putting up with the unconventional writing and bad spelling. My beta reader Hobbitfoot does the best she can, but I tend to sneak stuff in.

The next chapter will becoming soon: _**Dawn on Yock**_ _**Island.**_


	18. Interlude

**Author's Note:** Ok, this interlude is going to be in a slightly different format from the rest of the story, but since it's an interlude, I think I can get away with it. Don't forget to review!

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Part 2**

**Dawn on Yock** **Island**

**Day 3 in New World****(I think)**

Ok, I'm keeping this journal because it helps me keep track of things. It's not that I think I'll forget, or forget that much, but I don't know…this makes me feel like I have a past, even if I don't. Not in this world, anyway.

I tried to take the spell book with me. I put it in my backpack, but when I got through, got out, however you want to call it, I didn't have any of it with me anymore. I didn't have anything with me except my own skin, actually. I guess it's sort of lucky that I ended up alone on an island in the middle of nowhere, then. Well, not entirely alone.

That raised-by-wolves wild child is running around somewhere. I don't know if he's really human. I think he might be a genie or something. He can clap his hands and change one thing into another. That's how I ended up with clothes and this journal and a pencil to write with, by the way. I finally convinced him to wear clothes too, sometimes. And to call me Dawn instead of Mommy, which was totally freaking me out.

And now I'm saying everything out of order, so I'm going to start again.

My name is Dawn Summers and I am looking for my sister Buffy. She died a year and a half ago, and her friends brought her back from the dead, but she was sent somewhere else to keep her from unbalancing our world. I don't really get how that works, since there seems to be more bad in the world than good, but I don't make the rules. That doesn't mean I follow them, either.

After they failed to bring Buffy back to us, everything started going wrong. Willow had blown off Xander's arm and leg and melted out her own eyes and tongue. I don't really know how that happened, but it led to everyone fighting all the time. Since then, only me, Tara, Giles, and Spike (since Anya was being a bitch and wouldn't help, though I guess I can't blame her, cause of the baby) were left to fight evil on the Hellmouth.

We kept the vampires down, but when big-bads showed up, like the demon motorcycle gang, we were kind of screwed and only made it because Giles called up some dark magic and really messed himself up doing it. He went to England to ask the Watchers' council for help. Willow started getting weird after that, and she tried to use spells to get her eyes back. She went to L.A. for a while, and came back with eyes in her head, though they didn't match and she wouldn't say where she got them.

Tara broke up with her, but then a week later they were back together and Tara acted like she didn't remember ever arguing with Willow in the first place. I knew something was up then and I tried to get Xander to help. Anya just kept getting in the way and wouldn't let us talk. I found out she was planning to move, and Xander was going with her. She said the Hellmouth wasn't safe for her baby, and I agree, but they'd only been married a month and a half when all of this happened, so I think she might have been lying about being knocked up.

Xander said I should go with them, and Anya looked kind of pissed about that, but she said, 'Yes, of course we want an unproductive minor with few job prospects coming with us to drain our income'. I told them no thanks. He told me I should go to Giles then, but I figured I would be fine, since Spike was watching out for me. I figured Willow would get over it.

I was wrong. I'm always wrong.

Willow kept getting worse. She had an easier time taking out vamps and demons, but her face would get all veiny and her eyes would go all black. Dogs and cats wouldn't go near her and I was too creeped out to go home a lot of the time. The new principle at Sunnydale high, Robin Wood, offered to help me get into a foster home. I think he could tell my custody papers were fake.

I said no again.

A month ago, Willow went completely over the edge. When I avoided her, she would get crazy about it and accuse me of abandoning her. When I would hang around, she'd say I was an annoying brat, always in the way. (She still didn't have a tongue but she'd picked up a spell that let her talk inside peoples' heads, which was way creepy.) She started using spells on people, and not just monsters.

When I found out she was gathering stuff for a spell to get Buffy back into our world, even though the Powers-That-Be warned Giles it would like, bring the end of the world on us, I knew I had to get out. I figured the spell she found was as good a way as any.

Wrong, Wrong, Wrong!

It was made to let people go through "the Gate of Truth" to a place of 'equivalence', which was where I think she thought Buffy had gone. The spell involved drawing out a bunch of patterned circles and focusing energy into them. That part was easy enough, since I had learned some basic spells from Tara, and Willow, too, before she went Dark Side. So I left a letter with Spike for Xander and Giles if they came around, (though I told Spike I was going to my friend's cabin at Russian River, not another dimension).

So anyway, I drew the circles and did the spell. This big stone block popped up, and then it opened and all these creepy little arms grabbed me and pulled me in. I started to dissolve and I totally freaked out, but then all this green light started pouring out of me, which I guess is some "Key" power still left in me. Whatever it was, I think it kept me from melting. The next thing I know I'm lying in this circle of stones on a sunny little island.

I was looking around the island for signs of Buffy when a crazy naked kid jumped out of the forest, and asked if I was his mommy. Right away I knew something was off about him, since he was vampire-pale with purple eyes and pointy teeth, but since it was day, and he hadn't pulled anything (except for poking me in the chest and saying that I might be his mommy since I had girl parts, but I don't think he meant anything by it), I figured I might as well hang around with a native.

The first day we wandered around the island having really stupid conversations. He saw me trying to stab fish with a broken branch (which wasn't working at all). I told him it was because the end wasn't sharp enough (but really it's cause I have no idea how to fish with a spear), and he clapped his hands, grabbed the end and made it sharp. This didn't help us get fish, but I got him to make some grass into clothes (which I am now wearing, but he won't keep on unless I'm there to yell at him), and a net. I can't fish any better with a net than I can a spear.

The next day I ate some purple berries and threw up a lot. The kid seemed to think this was incredibly funny. Later, I did manage to get some fish, because they had swum up this little creek and I flopped in behind them so they couldn't get back out and escape. I got hit in the eye with a fish, but I managed to get three of them out of the water. Crazy kid couldn't make fire so I ended up rubbing sticks together for like two hours, but I finally did get a little pile of sticks to burn. I put the fish over them on sticks to cook. The fish fell off the sticks and smothered the fire. Raw fish doesn't taste that bad.

So now it's day three in New world. I got crazy kid to make me this journal and a pencil. Tomorrow I'm going to try to get him to make us a boat so we can get off the island. I can see land in the distance on all sides of the island, so I guess we're in a lake, maybe one made when a volcanic crater is filled in with water (see, I do pay attention in geography class!). Last night I saw lights across the water, so there must be a city over there. I figure we can go there and see what's going on. Hopefully I can convince the wild child to keep his clothes on.

**Day 4 in New World**

The city is called Dublith, and everyone in it is crazy.

Me and the wild child spent the whole morning rowing from the island to the mainland. It probably wouldn't have taken more than an hour, except Wild Child kept falling out of the boat and couldn't swim, so I had to call on all the life guard training I got at 4H summer camp, which I hadn't really paid that much attention to because Lindsey Davis bet me I couldn't get Chris Lee to 'rescue me' if I fell in the water, but that is really beside the point. Anyway, after he nearly drowned me and I dragged him back into the boat for the eighth time we got to shore.

People gave us weird looks, and I tried to ignore them, or pretend they were all Wild Child's fault. Whenever I came across somebody who wasn't giving me a funny look, I'd ask if anyone had met a girl named Buffy, or seen any small blond woman with a propensity to beat the snot out of people, hanging around.

Most of them said they didn't know anyone like that, but a couple said there might be somebody like that in a Bar called "The Devil's Nest" which was apparently located in the worst part of town, and run by thugs so foul they would kill you as soon as look at you. I figured I could handle myself, but I didn't really want to bring Wild Child in there, since he couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his life, and even if he could turn grass into capris, I didn't know if he could defend himself. I tried to leave him in a park while I went, but after twenty minutes of "you stay here until I get back" with him just following whenever I turned around, I just gave up.

The Devil's Nest was just about as bad as Willy's bar in Sunnydale, though with more hookers and less kitten eating. I tried to play it cool and not stare too much, but there were people with robot arms and pointy cat ears and a lizard man on the ceiling.

Finally this big dude with a lizard face comes up to me, drooling, and he's all, "What are you doing in place like this, pretty girl?"

I give him my best Slayer-once-removed face and say "I'm looking for somebody."

He's all, "Who?"

"I'm looking for my sister. She's about this tall, blond, and thinks she's the boss of everyone. Seen her around?" I said.

And he's all "We don't like people who ask questions."

And I'm like "So you get by solely on declarative statements?"

Nobody likes grammar jokes. I just don't get it. Why did the one-liner gene miss me?

Anyway, the guy tried to grab me, but I've had enough training with Spike over the last year to handle it. So he ended up groaning on the floor and wishing he'd worn a cup that morning, and me and the wild child were running for it as soon as I convinced him to stop asking the hookers if they were his mommy.

On our way out, we had to squeeze past this totally creepy dude on the stairs. He looked like he might have been related to Wild Child, the same pale complexion, pointy teeth, and purple eyes, only this dude was radiating creepy vibes at a much higher rate. As we went by, he was like "Sure you don't want to stay and be mine, Doll?" and I was like "Sorry, busy, maybe later." Anyway, we got out of that neighborhood fast, and they didn't follow, at least I don't think they followed.

It was almost dark and we were still walking around, when Wild Child started complaining he was hungry, and he kept trying to grab stuff off of carts. I tried explaining to him that we needed to give people money for food, and he was totally not getting it, so then I told him I'd catch him some fish, and he just yells, "You stink at fishing! I'm hungry!" and runs away down the street, and he runs right into a giant.

I'm not kidding at all. This guy was like seven feet tall and four feet across, and he had this scowl that probably would have made Angelus piss himself. (That is, if vampires pee. I don't know if they do, weird how I never thought to ask.) Anyway, this giant dude just grabs Wild Child's hand and drags him into a butcher's shop. I started yelling "hey, stop" because I was having Sweeney Todd flashbacks. (We had to watch that musical at school right before I went extra dimensional.)

I ran into the store after them, and the giant was just giving Wild Child deli slices. Apparently they sold cooked meat as well as raw. And I was like "we don't have any money". The giant just grunted and sort of went hmmmm. After an hour of Wild Child stuffing his face with cold cuts, a lady walked into the shop. She was wearing a long white dress over black pants and sandals and she had this look on her face that reminded me a lot of Buffy in Slayer mode. I wanted to make a run for it, but she was blocking the door and I had a feeling every dirty, eye gouging, biting trick Spike had taught me weren't going to get me past. The lady looked at the giant and she's all "who are these brats?" and he's all "they're hungry" and she turns and looks at us and she's like "who are you?"

So I said "I'm Dawn and this is…Jimmy."

I hadn't gotten a name out of him yet, and had been calling him "hey you", and "stop that, stupid!" for the past few days. He didn't seem to mind being Jimmy, though. He just nodded and smiled at the lady.

"I'm Izumi Curtis," she said. "And this is my husband, Sig."

I waved and was like "Hey."

And then she asks where we're from, only from the way she's looking at Jimmy the Wild Child I had a feeling she knew something was up.

I said. "We're tourists from Sunnydale."

But then, of course Jimmy had to say something stupid.

"No! We're from the Island!" he shouted.

Everybody in the room froze when he said that.

"And how did you get to the Island?" Izumi asked.

"We fell out of the Dark!" he shouted. "She turned inside out and her insides were green and she's not my mommy! Are you?"

So then I butted in with "Excuse us, we have to go now."

And the lady just says "No, you don't."

I tried to get Jimmy to move but he seemed to be waiting for an answer to the 'are you my mommy' question. So I grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door.

Somebody hit me on the head then. I'm not sure who it was, but if it was Jimmy being a brat, he is _so_ dead. Anyway, I woke up locked in this room and I still have my journal and pencil with me so yeah…here we are.

**Day 5 in New World**

I didn't manage to break out of my room last night, but in the morning there was a purple flash of light and Izumi let me out. She said if I tried to leave I wouldn't get far. I thought I'd probably be able to get by, but for once I resisted the impulse to shout "I could get away if I wanted to!", which I think proves how mature I am.

We got free breakfast, which was oatmeal and eggs, so I had a lump in my stomach for most of the morning. Haven't these people heard of processed sugar? Whatever. Izumi let me look through the books in her house while she hung around with Jimmy the wild child. Maybe she thinks she is his mommy. Maybe she is. I saw her clap her hands and do the same magic thing he does to open a door to a room that I'm not allowed to go into.

So, the books, a lot of them were about the circle magic Willow had found and I had used. I guess Izumi was some kind of expert in them. Around here witches are called alchemists, even though I thought that was more to do with potions and philosopher's stones. I didn't understand most of what they said, but there were some interesting notes on these things called homunculi, which are artificial humans that result from trying to raise the dead. They theoretically didn't have souls.

I don't think I count as that since I wasn't dead and I'm pretty sure I have a soul. It made me wonder about Jimmy, though. Maybe he was a kid brought back from the dead. It might explain why he was so obsessed with finding his mommy. On top of that, he was hanging out by that circle of stones I ended up in, which according to the books is called a transmutation circle. He gives off creepy vibes, too. Of course, I never notice creepy vibes from vampires, so that might not be anything. Maybe the creepy vibes are just because he saw me sans pants.

This stuff makes me wonder what condition Buffy was in when she got here, if she is here. Giles didn't say anything about her being purple-eyed and creepy in the vision the Powers-That-Be sent him.

I found books on geography, and it looks like this world is pretty similar to my world. The continents are in the same place and stuff, though the countries are all different, and the technology is 1920's at best, except for the robot arms, which I haven't found anything about yet. It seemed like I was somewhere equivalent to Europe, maybe Germany or France-ish. I am now in a country called Amestris, which is run by a military dictatorship. Most of the people I've seen so far don't seem so bad off, though or that different from me, so I'm not too worried about getting hauled in as an illegal immigrant or enemy of the state.

It got dark and Sig came home from the butcher shop with this guy named Mason, who I guess was the assistant butcher. We all got called in for dinner. Jimmy the wild child ate like a pig, of course, and he started grabbing stuff off of my plate since it was closer than the serving dish. And I did something stupid, but at the time I didn't think anyone would really care, since Izumi was an Alchemy witch. The next time Jimmy grabbed a piece of chicken off my plate, I used the pencil floating spell (since it's one of the few I can do without a spell book) to make his plate float out of his reach.

When Tara taught me the spell, she was all about how it was to be used for good and if you used it for evil it would come back to you. I don't think teaching a bratty kid some table manners was that evil. It's not like he was starving. Anyway, Jimmy jumped up on the table to try and get his plate back down and he kicked a gravy boat into my lap, and I got scalded, lost my concentration, and dropped the plate on Mason's head.

It turns out they don't do levitation in this world. So now I'm locked up again. As heroic quests to rescue family go, this isn't working out so well.


	19. Chapter 19

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**New Roomies**

**5 Months after the Winter Plague…**

Shezka knew Summer was nice, but she'd have to be an idiot not to realize something odd was going on. She couldn't really complain, though. No one else wanted to rent a room in a house that was filled floor to ceiling with books, except for the drafty basement.

Being a landlady seemed like a good idea, even if it never went further than that. She didn't have many good ideas, so even having one was a bit of an accomplishment. She hadn't expected anyone to take interest in a basement for rent, but her mother was in the hospital, and due to her…compulsions, Shezka couldn't hold down a job for more than a few weeks at a time.

Shezka's problem wasn't drugs or kleptomania. It was something altogether more bizarre. If she saw something in print, she had to read it. If that was it, she might have slid by her previous bosses as just a curious person, but sadly, it didn't stop there. When she didn't have something new to read she'd get nervous and shaky until she found something. It might not have been so bad, except that she never forgot anything she read, so she couldn't just keep a favorite book in her purse at all times, because the same old book didn't give her her fix. If finding a job with such a quirk was hard, finding a roommate who would tolerate it was murder.

It had seemed an extreme case of good luck when the short, perky blond woman had shown up on her doorstep two months ago. Summer Summers had been very interested in the basement, which had its own outside door, leading up a narrow staircase to the backyard. There wasn't a separate bathroom, so Summer had to come upstairs into the house to use that. She had kitchen privileges, too. Shezka had warned her that the basement sometimes flooded in the rain (which was why she didn't store any books down there) but Summer said that was just fine.

Summer had then asked if a cat was alright. Shezka had been a little wary, as her mother didn't like cats, but since her mother was in the hospital and wasn't going to be coming out anytime soon, thanks to the plague's effect on her lungs, it probably didn't matter. Summer had never shown her the cat, but sometimes she heard something walking around in the basement when she knew Summer was at work. It sounded more like a tiger than a cat.

But in the end, Summer's bank account had checked out, and even if she didn't have any references, Shezka didn't have any other serious offers. She'd been prepared to deal with a bit of odd, but things were starting to get out of hand.

So here she was, standing fretfully before the door, wondering what to do about the strange man outside, who was sniffing the welcome mat. She looked at the fire poker she kept by the door, and then out the peephole again. He was standing up now. She didn't know him, but he looked a little familiar. She fretted over that, and her mind started going over all of the I.D. photos she'd seen during her four months of working at the Central Library and Records building, three years earlier.

Nothing came to her immediately, but she didn't think she should just leave him there while she processed. Since it was the middle of the day and there were people all around, nothing much could happen, right? She opened the door but didn't take the chain off.

"Hello," she said.

The man wasn't very tall, but his shoulders were broad and his arms were probably thicker than her legs. He grinned at her and Shezka couldn't help but think of a cocker spaniel she'd begged her mother to get when she was little. He was carrying a long metal case strung over his shoulder, as well as a battered suitcase. He looked her over and then looked past her into the house. His mouth dropped open a bit.

"What the hell? Is your house made out of books?" he asked, still grinning faintly.

"Well, no," she said. "I just read a lot."

"Oh," he said. "Does Summer live here?"

"Oh," Shezka said. "Uh…well…"

"Or at least stop by here a lot?" He was breathing rather heavily through his nose. "I heard she moved, but she didn't really tell me where, but I guess she wasn't expecting me to be back in Central so soon. Do you know when she'll be back?"

"Who are you?" Shezka asked.

"Oh, I'm Dorchet, but you probably shouldn't mention that to anybody but the Boss," he said.

"The…Boss?" she asked, bewildered.

"Yeah, Summer, the Boss," he said. "Will she be back soon?"

"Well, I think she's at work now," Shezka offered. "She won't be back until after dark, I think."

"Oh, hu…," Dorchet said. "Do you think I could wait inside? I don't really have anywhere else to go until I've talked to her."

"I don't know," Shezka said.

"It's just that I haven't seen her in few months, you know? I'd been kind of under the weather and I wanted to surprise her," Dorchet said.

Shezka's mind spun to a stop, the record she had seen popping to the forefront of her mind.

**_Captain Dorchet, John: Deceased _**

The rest of his military record played out behind her eyes. Apparently he had died on a secret mission in Ishbal. Most of the file she'd read was blacked out and classified, but it was disturbing enough to have a dead man standing on her porch.

Apparently, her face gave something away because he asked her if something was wrong.

"Uh…no," Shezka said, pushing up her glasses. "It's just I'm not supposed to open Summer's room, because her cat will run out."

"Don't worry about that," Dorchet said, sniffing the air again. "Gabriel and I get along great."

Shezka paused for a moment. Summer had told her the cat's name was Gabriel. She supposed that meant Dorchet knew Summer, or was at least an accomplished stalker.

"Alright," Shezka said. She closed the door for a moment to take the chain off, and let Dorchet in. He followed her through the house to the basement steps. She listened for a moment, but she didn't hear the cat. Of course, cats were famous for being silent. She opened it a crack, but didn't see anything but darkness. She stepped back and waved him through. Dorchet smirked as he went past her, calling "here, kitty kitty!" under his breath. As she closed the door, she heard a thump, a startled yelp and a growl. Shezka grabbed the nearest book and clutched it to her chest, praying that Summer's cat hadn't just eaten that walking dead man.

After a few minutes of hyperventilating, she went to the phone.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Summer saw his outline through the fogged glass in the typing pool door. She knew it was dangerous to keep working for the state with all that was going on, but she had accepted the risks. Still, it was not a confrontation she was looking forward to. She gritted her teeth. If she jumped out the window, the other secretaries would know something was up. She'd have to play this very carefully. The doorknob started to turn. _Screw careful_!

"I called in sick today," Summer hissed to a coworker, Kerry, as she ducked into the foot-well of her desk.

A moment later, Major Armstrong stepped into the room.

"Good day, ladies!" the major announced in a booming voice.

All typing ground to a halt.

"Is Private Summers here by any chance?" he asked.

"She's…uh…in the bathroom," Kerry said.

It wasn't exactly what she wanted said, but she realized the half-completed form in her typewriter would have given her away.

"Ah!" Armstrong said. "Then I shall return later! Good day!" he said again as he left.

When the door had closed, Summer crawled out of under her desk.

"What was that about?" Kerry asked.

Everyone else in the typing pool was waiting patiently for the answer as well.

"Uh…I think he's planning to ask me out," Summer said, adjusting her uniform.

The others nodded sympathetically, and Summer felt a bit guilty. It wasn't that she disliked the loud, narcissistic, goofball that much. It was just that ever since he got over his round of plague, he'd been following her, and had even at one point asked Hughes if she had "any suitors of good repute" to which a very evil Hughes had replied negatively. The other typists started whispering, but Summer could, of course, hear every word. Rumors about her and Armstrong had already begun to fly. She sighed and went to work on her forms. Maybe she should have just said he was passing on orders for a suicide mission.

The phone on Corporal Sung's desk rang. The old battleaxe in charge of the pool had come back from her bout with the plague a little grayer and a little raspier, but no less annoyed with Summer. So, as she answered her phone and her glare fell upon her least favorite secretary, Summer sent off a silent prayer that it wasn't Armstrong on the phone. Sung continued to glare as she said assorted monosyllabic things into the receiver. "hm…nn…ah….hm…no…bye."

"Your landlady called personnel and left a message for you. Apparently your cat has attacked someone," Sung said.

Summer decided she had to aim her prayers better.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

She'd managed to get off of work early and dodge Armstrong and Hughes both, since she was still slightly mad at him for encouraging crazy people to ask her out. Or at least not discouraging them. He could have said she was a nun or something. She sighed as she walked downstairs with the beers. She'd managed to calm down Shezka, and got Dorchet to tell her that he was not, in fact, dead. Gabriel had crouched under a table, peering out from under the lacy tablecloth (the only slightly genteel thing Summer kept in the room) as Shezka babbled nervously, explaining that something was loud and she was just concerned. Summer invited her landlady to have a drink with them, but as she expected, the other young woman turned her down in favor of a book.

"Is everybody okay in Dublith?" Summer asked as they settled down with their drinks.

"I guess," Dorchet said. "Greed's set himself up as a local crime boss, working out of this bar called the Devil's Nest. The military in that area doesn't seem to care. Most of the chimera that can pass for human are working with him. The Pack's hanging around the woods outside the city. They were…okay, I guess, the last time I talked to them. They said to say 'hi' to you," he added, looking at Gabriel.

The quadrupedal chimera nodded in response as he struggled with his beer. His paws were dexterous enough to bring the bottle to his mouth and tilt it up, but pouring the bubbling liquid into his mouth and swallowing it seemed to cause problems. He refused to pour it out in a dish, though, and for the sake of his pride, Summer just put up with the mess.

"Everybody is working for Greed?" Summer asked.

"Except for me, Marta and Loa. Ulchi was sort of on the fence about whether or not to throw in with them, but then the Devil's Nest got all these hookers, so…uh…yeah. Ulchi won't be going anywhere for a while."

Summer snorted. It had been an unpleasant couple of weeks in the Hughes house with that half-crocodile chimera around. And he couldn't really blame his reptile half for his behavior, since Summer had read enough books to know lizards were only interested in getting it on once a year. Hughes had nearly shot Ulchi when he hit on his wife, Gracia, who was still slightly ill at the time. Fortunately, Gabriel had bit the other chimera on the leg before firearms were brought in.

"So are they coming back, too?" she asked.

"Yeah, Marta and Loa are coming up later in the week, but they're more recognizable than me, so they couldn't come on the train," Dorchet said. "So how are things around here?"

"They stopped digging around Lab 5," Summer said. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I haven't seen any of the freaks around, so maybe they just gave up. Then again, I've never been lucky."

"Well, now that I'm around, maybe you'll get lucky more often!" Dorchet said.

Gabriel rolled his eyes at the other chimera and snorted, but either Dorchet meant what he'd said or hadn't realized how it had come out, because he didn't look the least bit embarrassed. He just sat there with the same rather goofy grin he always had around Summer.

"Uh, right, maybe," Summer allowed. "Anyway, I haven't seen anything around Central to hint that they know where you've gone to. There were wanted posters for a couple of weeks, but all of those have come down once _somebody_ pointed out that your military records all said you were killed in Ishbal. I'm not really sure what's being forged or un-forged right now, but I don't think they're putting much effort into the search."

"What about your buddy Hughes?" Dorchet asked. "Did he get in any trouble?"

"He got a reprimand for not reporting that Short Stuff was at his house, but otherwise they haven't done anything official," Summer said. "I moved out, just to make sure. I go by to check up on the place and I haven't seen anybody around. He's still worried, though, since we can't do anything about Fuhrer President Bradley. He sent Gracia and Elicia to stay with his parents in Souss for a while. He's pretty bummed about that, spends most of his pay calling them and sending them stuff."

Summer looked at the floor for a long moment. It was her fault he'd had to send them into hiding. She'd wanted him to go, too, but he wanted to stay where he was, to watch out for her, his buddy Mustang, and the Elrics, and everyone else mixed up in this crazy mess.

"So what now?" Dorchet asked.

"I figure we'll keep an eye on the city, do the crime-fighting superhero thing, and I'll try to dig a little deeper into what's going on with the Fuhrer and Gran."

"What about Fullmetal and Al?" Dorchet asked.

"I haven't seen them since they left with the firebug. I don't know how much they believed about Lab 5. They still seem to think a Philosopher's stone will solve all their problems. They said since the ones Greed gave me were fake, maybe the real one doesn't have people as the main ingredient. Last I heard, they were out in some city called Leore."

"That's not too far from the ruins of Ishbal," Dorchet said, going absolutely still for a haunted moment.

He'd told Summer he used to be a special forces assassin for the state, and that he and many of the others she'd freed had helped start a war against innocent people. She didn't know how she felt about that. She didn't think she was one to judge, though. She didn't remember most of her life before dropping into Central, but she knew she was a better killer than he was, even if she only used her talents on things she called monsters. And he didn't seem interested in assassinations now. He seemed only to want her to tell him what to do.

Summer sighed and stood up. It was getting way too angsty in there. "Well, guys, who's ready to go out and kick some evil ass?"

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

It was a bright morning, so the man stayed in the shadows of the alley. He watched the people going to and fro with a faintly disturbed feeling in his stomach. After about half an hour, he realized what the problem was. Before him was a fruit stand. The problem wasn't that the stand was run by an Ishbalan. It was that the stand, run by an Ishbalan, was in downtown Central. And nothing bad was happening. Amestrisians were walking by, or stopping to look at the produce, or buying it. It was an Ishbalan, being treated like a human in a country that had done its best to eradicate them. The man wondered how he had become so lost in his hate that this appeared wrong to him. Then he saw the soldiers coming and thought perhaps he wasn't so lost, after all.

It was a group of four, armed with rifles and sneers. Many shoppers moved out of their path, and those who didn't were not-so-politely shoved. He heard a few grumbles of "I'm filing a complaint" but the soldiers didn't seem to care. He wasn't surprised. Though the market was much nicer than he expected to find his people in, it wasn't rich.

His fists clenched and the pattern tattooed in his right arm shifted and stretched as the soldiers asked to see the fruit seller's permit, which was obediently produced, and then tore the sheet of paper to shreds without even glancing at it. The seller objected. The lead soldier knocked a crate of honey melons to the street. They split and splattered. The seller's objections got louder and one of the soldiers leaned into the stand and grabbed the seller's coat, fist rising to strike. The man was about to leave his alley and intervene when a sudden sound brought him up short.

SLAP!

The soldier, who had been about to punch the fruit seller, was staggering back, holding his now-empty hands to his injured face. In front of him, somehow miraculously appearing between the four soldiers and the Ishbalan was a short, blond woman, also in military uniform.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" the young woman said, bringing to bear a pointed finger that seemed to hold more threat than the rifles the four soldiers carried. "I saw!" she declared in a high echoing voice that drew back the attention of all those who had averted their eyes from the scene. "He showed you the permit! Could you not read the permit?"

The lead soldier, a sergeant, the man saw from his collar, tried to loom over the woman. "This isn't your concern, Private," he growled. "Get out of here."

"Why don't you try and make me, you big bully!" she shouted in his face.

"You are interfering in-"

"-In you being a JERK I TOTALLY NOTICED!" she bellowed.

The sergeant un-slung his rifle, and the other three soldiers got very nervous, though the man wasn't sure if it was because of the woman or the rather obvious stares of the crowd, witnesses who couldn't be executed when they were inconvenient.

"Gonna take a shot at me?" the woman asked, her voice suddenly deadly quiet. "Gonna shoot another member of the military, unarmed, in the middle of street? That's the kind of thing that gets you strung up, Sergeant," she said, almost whispering now. The man couldn't help but notice the strange glint in her eyes as she added. "Go ahead. I dare you!"

The crowd was now holding its breath.

"Sir…," one of the others said. "Sir…we're off in half an hour…maybe…"

"This isn't over, Summers," the sergeant growled. He put up his rifle and marched off, pushing through the still-silent crowd. The other three followed after him. The woman, Summers, waved after them with a weird grin. Then she bent down and gathered up the ripped remains of the seller's permit.

"Sorry 'bout that Mr….Slaese," she said, reading the permit as she put it back together on the counter of his stand. "Some people just can't stop being jerks, you know? Maybe you want to set up your store over by the docks until Thursday? That's when the security patrols get switched up again, and Mr. Jerk gets sent to walk in circles and make trouble on the other side of town."

"Miss, I-" the fruit seller started.

"Ooooh! Melons!" she declared, cutting off his attempt to say thank you. She bent over to pick those up, too, showing off a rather well-formed rear end. She pushed the smashed produce back into its crate and then sprang up and slapped a thousand sen note down on the counter next to the shredded permit. It was at least three times what the box of ruined fruit was worth.

"Is it cool if I keep the crate?" she asked. "They're kind of drippy! But I guess half the work is done if I'm making jelly. Can you make jelly with melons? I guess I can look it up-"

"Miss!" the fruit seller tried to interrupt again.

"-or are these the ones I'm allergic to? Oh well-" she continued babbling and dodging the man's attempts to return her money or at least give her change. "See ya' around, Mr. Slaese!" she said, waving again as she vanished into the crowd with the crate of ruined fruit. The crowd swallowed her up, and returned to being an anonymous stream of people, who might or might not have seen the confrontation.

The man could not help it. He approached the stand. The fruit seller looked up from the permit on his counter, and though the strange man's scarred face made him a bit nervous, smiled at a fellow Ishbalan.

"Does that happen often?" The man asked.

"What, my friend?" the fruit seller asked. "The soldiers throwing their weight around, or one of their own coming to my rescue? I take it you haven't been in Central recently?"

"Not in three years," the man said. "When I was,…this would not have stood for long," he said, waving at the stand.

"You've missed interesting times, my friend, though a lot of it unpleasant. Have something to eat!" the fruit seller ordered, handing the man an apple. "Have you been to the camps yet? I suppose a lot of it started there. What have you heard about the Scrap Demon? Go ahead, eat! I'll tell you."

He listened, but at the end of it, he still had his mission.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

It was far from the first dead body she'd ever seen, but Summer was still slightly freaked out. The dead man was wearing an Amestrisian military uniform, and had a State Alchemist's watch chained to his belt. This meant a couple of things to her. One: the man was involved with people who had no compunctions about doing horrible things in the name of research, and two: that he himself was trained in combat and at least moderately dangerous. So how and why was he dead in an alley with his brains leaking out on the pavement?

Summer saw no signs of a fight, and even she was having trouble not stepping in the blood that was just about everywhere. She sighed, stepping closer to the body. Her Scrap Demon costume needed a wash, anyway. She had just managed to get gunk all over herself (without finding anything important) when she felt a presence at the end of the alley. She froze, glaring at the woman in the slinky, low-cut dress who walked towards her.

"So when did you get out of the hole?" Summer asked, backing out of reach.

She didn't sense any other homunculi around, but Lust on her own wasn't a pushover, and she still didn't have a way to put her out of action permanently.

"Oh, we were out months ago, but we had other things to do," Lust said dismissively. "Except for Sloth. What did you do with her, anyway?"

"Never met her," Summer said, guessing Lust was talking about the melting woman that had tried to kill Alphonse and the firebug. She knew where the creature was buried, but had no intention of informing her enemy.

Lust kept coming towards her, so Summer hopped backwards, clinging to a wall of the alley as Lust approached the body. The homunculus pushed the corpse with the toe of her pointed boot.

"Your work?" Lust asked her.

"Nope," Summer said. "I'd blame you, but this doesn't seem your style, either. Looks like he had a grenade shoved up his nose."

"Hmmmmmmmmmm," Lust said, as her eyes went to the State Alchemist's watch Summer had noted earlier. "This is the work of another alchemist," she muttered.

"Making room for a promotion?" Summer suggested.

Lust shook her head. "The only alchemists the state has who could do this are either in prison or out of town," she said. "There's somebody new in the game."

"One of your guys could have lied about where he was," Summer said.

"No," Lust replied. "We watch the dangerous ones very carefully."

One might think they were colleagues having a friendly conversation had each not been planning how to kill the other.

"Our master wants to meet you, by the way," Lust said. "She can help you reach your full potential. You could be like us."

"I'm already as psycho as I want to be, thanks," Summer deadpanned.

"But you aren't immortal," Lust said.

"Neither are you," Summer said. "I just haven't found a way to kill you yet."

"I suppose one must have hobbies," Lust said with a sigh. "When you realize you can't win, you'll come to us. Or perhaps our master will decide you aren't worth the trouble. You aren't _that _much better than a human, anyway."

Summer stuck out her tongue. "NYAH!" she declared, all the while fighting the urge to tackle the inhuman woman. Summer knew she couldn't win, though, and since nobody living was in immediate danger, there really wasn't much of a reason to attack.

The homunculus turned and began to walk away.

"So I guess you guys are planning to go on a crazy killing spree again," Summer called after her.

"That depends on what our master wants," Lust said.

"So what do you want?" Summer asked.

"What I can't have," Lust said, disappearing around the corner.

Summer could sense the homunculus moving away slowly towards Central Headquarters. Summer sighed and scratched at her face paint. She need to get Dorchet or Gabriel over here to see if they could track the killer, and if Lust was out, that meant Gluttony was probably running around as well, and he was a better tracker than the three of them put together. And Gluttony was probably searching for Summer's new digs as well, so she'd have to be extra careful about going to Shezka's. And now the Hag that Greed had mentioned, who had control of all the other homunculi, was trying to recruit her.

"Why's it always got to get more complicated?" she asked the dead guy.

He didn't answer.

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**Author's Note:** Don't forget to review!

Special thanks to Tain Shari for the heads up on a rather critical malapropism. It's been fixed. I think my unpaid editor needs more sleep. Take a nap, Hobbitfoot!


	20. Chapter 20

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Perfectly Bad Timing**

Gracia Hughes' absence was notable the moment Summer stepped through the door. The inside of the house was covered in a thin layer of dust. The oven hadn't been opened in almost half a year, and the trash was overflowing with takeout boxes. It wasn't that Maes Hughes was lazy or messy. Summer noted the well-paced tracks along the carpet going to the front door, downstairs bathroom, kitchen, and living room. Hughes' uniforms were laid out over backs of the chairs, instead of being put away in his bedroom closet. It was as if Hughes were afraid to trek into his family's rooms when they weren't present.

She cleaned the place up a bit as she waited for him to get back from work. He'd probably be late, since his department was getting way more spillover from the murders than the typing pool was. They hadn't traded info for the last week. It wasn't that Summer didn't stop by. It was just that when she had some free time at three in the morning, and she could hear him snoring inside, she didn't have the heart to wake him. It was almost midnight when he returned.

"Still nothing?" Hughes asked, in lieu of greeting.

Summer shook her head. "Dorchet and Gabriel have both tried to track him, but the guy is smart, crosses water a lot and likes to cut through the sewers. We can't find anything that goes more than a hundred yards from the scene. I don't think we'll have any luck at all unless we trip across him. Loa and Marta are supposed to be getting in any day now, though. Maybe they'll have something to add."

Hughes sighed. "We've doubled the security on every State Alchemist in the area. All we end up with is twice as many dead guards."

"And there's no order to the targets?" Summer asked. "They aren't all from the same department or something?"

Hughes shook his head. "We've got three dead combat Alchemists, five researcher-only Alchemists, and one State licensing supervisor. The only thing they have in common is their watch."

"Did they all have their watches on when they were killed? Maybe he's tracking the watches somehow," Summer said.

Hughes shook his head. "The Orchard Alchemist, one of the researchers, never remembered to take his watch with him. He always left it in his desk at the lab. The killer got him in Central Park. He must have seen a picture or followed him from the lab. Orchard wasn't famous and didn't carry I.D."

Summer frowned. While homunculi set off her other sense, she only noticed alchemists when they were doing something with their powers, and even that was weak compared to the creatures. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She watched Hughes slump into an armchair in the living room. He'd probably end up sleeping there. There wasn't much she could do about the killer, apparently, but she supposed she ought to put some effort into getting Hughes out of his funk. She considered asking to see the most recent pictures of Elicia he'd gotten, but that might just remind him of his absent family and make everything worse. She supposed she'd have to bring up his second favorite topic. She knew she'd regret doing it, but she figured it would cheer Hughes up, even if it annoyed the hell out of her.

"Is Armstrong watching his back?" she asked, casually.

Hughes smirked. "Is that more than the usual concern?" he asked.

Summer glared. "Yeah, because he's _extra_ oblivious."

Hughes shrugged. "The Major can take care of himself. He scored very high on situational awareness, which is why your ability to disappear on him is driving him nuts."

Summer stuck out her tongue. "If he's so aware, why can't he take a hint?"

Over the past few days, the Armstrong stalking had gone up a notch. It was taking all her skill to avoid being in the same place at the same time.

"Oh, by the way," Hughes said, smirking. "He mentioned to me that his parents were back in town and he thought you might want to meet them."

"Getting a bit ahead of himself, isn't he?"

"I don't see why you're so opposed to the idea," Hughes said. "You could do worse."

Summer rolled her eyes.

"You'd make all the other secretaries jealous," Hughes said. "Half of them would kill to have a State Alchemist on their arm."

Summer was about to comment on vapid people trying to sleep their way to the top, when an idea struck her upside the head.

"Well, I've just come up with a brilliant plan to solve all my problems," Summer said.

"Are you going to tell me what it is?" Hughes asked, not liking her smirk.

"Nope!"

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Oliver Palomino frowned as he tried to complete the equation. If he wanted his proposal to be taken seriously, he'd need something even General Gran couldn't pick apart. His lunch was once again being ignored in favor of calculations, though with the slop the mess was serving, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He wished for the hundredth time that he had a better name. Everyone respected Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, but Oliver Palomino, the Solar Alchemist needed to make everything ten times as good, because his alchemy was for building and not blowing things up. Why couldn't they see that using alchemy to convert sunlight into electricity was superior to coal- and oil-based generation? His arrays were so simple even the world's greatest dunce could activate them. He paged back through his notebook, trying to find the reference number. He started a bit when a shadow settled over his notes. There was a very pretty young woman standing over him.

"Uh…hello?" Oliver said.

"Hey," she said.

He watched her for a long moment, expecting her to deliver a message of some sort. She didn't.

"Sooooo," the young woman said, sitting down at his table without invitation. "You like steak?"

"Um…what?" Oliver said.

"Do you like steak?" she repeated. "You know, like from a restaurant?"

He looked at her more closely. Her uniform indicated she was a Private, and she looked vaguely familiar. She must be from the typing pool, he decided. She was watching him intently, as if she expected something to happen, maybe something amusing.

"Miss, I don't know who put you up to this, but I am very busy," Oliver said as formally as he could.

"Why do you think someone put me up to this?" she asked.

"Because my career is in a rut, I don't earn much money, and I'm not the least bit alluring to the fairer sex."

"Wow, what a complex," the woman said. "Well, since you are just a font of self-confidence, I'll level with you. I came into the mess to avoid a certain Major who's been making eyes at me. I figured if I could get somebody else to come out with me, he'd give it a rest. You looked like you could use a night off, and had the additional bonus of not being a well-known jerk (cause you know everything anybody ever says about anyone ends up in the typing /gossip pool), and not being a hundred years old and ugly. So you want to go out for steak or shall I shove off?"

He was about to tell her that she should indeed shove off, because he was very busy, when the doors of the mess hall burst open, and Major Armstrong strode in. The air around the giant human seemed to sparkle, though thanks to some unknown miracle, there was no shirt tossing or flexing.

Oliver was not a fan of the Major, though they were technically of equal rank and had never been in the same command. They'd rarely even spoken. His dislike stemmed from the fact that Armstrong believed that fighting could solve all problems, while Oliver thought science would eventually eliminate the need to fight at all, by allowing for the fair and easy distribution of resources. When Oliver attempted to debate the point with him, during funding proposals, Armstrong challenged him to a fight.

"Private Summers!" Major Armstrong boomed.

Everyone in the cafeteria flinched, except for Private Summers, whose eye twitched.

"Help me!" Summer whispered.

Well, he had always wanted to save a damsel in distress.

"I'll pick you up at seven, then?!" Oliver said a bit more loudly than necessary.

"That'd be great!" Summer said with a similar excess of volume.

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"I'm ten times faster than a normal human, why the hell am I always late?" Summer muttered as she stuffed the last report through the slot in the door of the file room.

She was practically flying as she crossed the courtyard. She ruined another pair of tights running across the roofs back to Shezka's house, but managed to get changed and fixed up by six forty-five.

Gabriel and Dorchet didn't seem too happy with her plan of gluing herself to a State Alchemist and waiting for the killer to come to her. Well, Dorchet wasn't, at least. He also seemed purposefully dense on what his part in this little mission would be. He seemed to think he was supposed to beat up the Solar Alchemist if he tried anything with Summer. After fifteen minutes of discussion, Summer told Dorchet to just patrol the city, and she'd have Gabriel watch her back. There was much glaring and mumbling as they parted ways.

She'd told the Solar Alchemist, Oliver Palomino (whose name she finally got around to looking up) to meet her on a corner a few blocks from Shezka's house. As she waited, she considered her plan again. It was going to be a lot easier to track an alchemist than it was to try and track the killer. Though it wasn't likely that the evil bastard would strike the first Alchemist she stuck herself to the first night out, the plan seemed--to her at least--to have a lot of potential. Of course it also meant that the alchemist she'd rather randomly asked out would essentially be live bait, but she assuaged her conscience by reminding it that she was just about the best bodyguard you could get, (not including certain psychos with purple eyes).

She heard the car coming, but pretended not to. She waited until he'd gotten out and called her name to turn.

"Ms. Summers?"

She smiled, waved, and hurried up the street on dark red heels that matched her dress, coat and lipstick.

"Hey Ollie, what's up? And it's just Summer, anyway," she said. "Who're your friends?"

There was a rather surly-looking uniformed driver, and a soldier in the front passenger seat with a rifle. Either Hughes was wrong about the guards being doubled, or Solar wasn't considered important enough to watch. She wondered if that made him more or less of a target for the killer.

"Oh," Oliver said, apparently trying to decide if he should object to being called Ollie. "You've heard of the Alchemist killer?" he asked.

"Yeah, there're all kinds of rumors going around about that," Summer offered. "Think you're on a hit list or something?"

"Well, no," Oliver said, "But everyone's been given at least a cursory escort when not on military property. This is Private Reed and Sergeant Duke," he said, waving at the driver and the guy with the rifle, respectively.

They said their hellos and headed for the restaurant. Every once in a while Summer would catch a glimpse of Gabriel in the rearview mirror as they drove, but the guards didn't see him. The fact that they didn't notice a lion-sized chimera chasing their car didn't fill her with confidence.

Summer kept her guard up as they sat down for their meal, once nearly pouncing on some poor woman who accidentally stumbled into Oliver's chair. She studied the other people in the room as they ate. The Alchemist killer worked fast, so he'd have to have an array all ready to go when he came after his victims, and since none of the corpses had circles drawn on them, the array was probably on the killer, either printed on gloves like Mustang the firebug used, or tattooed right on the skin. Nobody sitting near them had either. Of course, they could be the clapping-hands kind of alchemist, like Fullmetal Short Stuff was, but Hughes said Ed's ability was freakishly rare. Summer kept an eye out for clapping as well.

But what were the odds, really, that the killer would come after the Solar Alchemist that night? Two hundred and ninety-seven to one, she supposed, as that was the last count Hughes had given her for the alchemist population of Central. She eventually noticed the lack of conversation at their table as they waited for their food and decided to break the ice.

"So, like, what do you, if it's not classified or something?" she asked.

This, fortuitously or not, sent the Solar Alchemist on a long spiel about light-energy arrays, focusing systems, the division of labor in the country, pollution, and the plight of minors and factory workers. It reminded Summer of a red-haired girl telling her about computer programming, (an activity which apparently didn't exist, according to Hughes), and sent her mind off on a tangent filled with wires and sparks until she realized Oliver was staring at her.

"So it's all about solar power? That's cool. It sucks to be a coal miner," Summer said.

"Oh, do you know many coal miners?" Oliver asked.

"No," she said. "But they have that song, you know …'Sixteen tons and what do you get/ Another day older and deeper in debt!'"

"I don't believe I know that one," he said as her enthusiastic off-key singing drew the attention of most of the other diners.

"Oh," she said.

It wasn't the best date ever, but as Oliver paid (He looked scandalized when she suggested splitting the check), Summer realized it was the only date she'd been on since…ever? Well, that couldn't be right. She had echoes in her head of other places she'd been with guys. It troubled her to think that, but she plastered on a smile as they left the restaurant. She wondered if she should suggest they go to a movie or something, but Oliver pointed out that it was getting late (almost 9 o'clock) and that they had work the next day. Summer supposed this would give her plenty of time to patrol, at least. She felt rather useless since no one had tried to kill them during dinner. There was one problem, though.

The car, the guard and the driver were gone. Not only that, but there wasn't a cab in sight.

"Wonder where they went," Summer said.

Oliver frowned. "They should have at least checked in with me before they left."

It wouldn't have taken her more than ten minutes to sprint the 4 miles back to Shezka's house, but keeping pace with Oliver, it would take an hour at least. She supposed they would make very good targets that way. She looked down the block and saw Gabriel crouched at the mouth of an alley. He didn't look particularly concerned.

"Well, we can either stand here or walk," she said as she looked up and down the street.

"Are you up for a walk?" Oliver said. "I mean, your shoes-"

"Ah, they're fine," Summer said. "Let's get going."

Despite the news of a serial killer on the loose, the streets were pretty crowded. Gabriel was forced to keep a few blocks between them, and cut through a lot of alleys to avoid being seen. The first mile was pretty boring, and she and Oliver had pretty much run out of things to talk about, but the semi-awkward silence wasn't so bad. As they started through the poorer section of downtown Central, they turned a corner and came across a rather large group of people, loitering.

She wondered if they should go down a different street, but realized the men gathered on the corner were all Ishbalans. They were about as likely to be alchemic serial killers as Ed was to become an extra-small-fashions model. She waved and smiled as they passed the group. A few of them waved back. One of them, with a big scar on his face, looked past her at Oliver and glared, but he didn't say anything to the others.

"You know them?" Oliver asked.

"Naw," she said. "Just being friendly."

"They're a rather superstitious people," Oliver said. "They act like Alchemy is pure evil just because they don't understand it."

"Well, if somebody offered you a magic box, saying it wasn't dangerous, and then used the magic box to burn your house down when you said you didn't want it, you probably wouldn't want magic boxes near you again."

"I suppose," Oliver allowed.

They turned up the next block and Oliver started talking about solar power sources again. Summer wasn't really listening, though. She could hear another set of footsteps behind them, much closer than Gabriel's stealthy padding.

One of the Ishbalans was following them.

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Apparently the woman noticed him. She stopped the Alchemist with a tug on his arm, and turned toward Scar.

"Hey, buddy," she called back. "Can we help you with something?"

He recognized her. It was the woman who had helped the Ishbalans in the market. But she was in the company of an Alchemist, and from the way she stood, he knew she'd fight in defense of her companion. He considered trying to knock her out, but that would give the Alchemist a chance to work his vile art. He decided against it. He walked up to them, and they did not flee. The woman's eyes darted to his hands, but she relaxed slightly, seeing they were empty.

"God is merciful and will forgive you of your sins," he told the woman.

"Uh…ok, thanks, I guess," she said.

Scar put his hand on her forehead. She looked rather baffled. He supposed she expected to be struck. She was bringing up a hand to push him away.

"Why don't you keep that-" she started to say.

He let God judge her. She saw the flash of purple light a second too late.

The Alchemist didn't flee. He seemed too stunned to. Instinctively, the man lunged forward and caught the body of the woman. He looked from Scar to the young woman, her blood pouring all over his clothes as he tried to hold her upright. Scar's hand came down on the man's head, and the Alchemist managed to choke out "Why?" before he too was sent back to God.

Scar looked down at the bodies in the street. The woman was still twitching. That had happened before, but it rarely lasted this long. He bent down to inspect her, and realized her chest was still rising and falling with shallow breaths. His touch had never failed to kill before. He wondered if this meant God wanted her to live, but decided against it. The inside of her head was mush no matter what the rest of her body was doing. It was his mistake, and it would be wrong to leave her like that. He placed his hand on her forehead again.

A sudden low growling startled him and he drew back. He searched the dark streets for the source and eventually saw the shadow of an animal coming towards him, slinking along the sides of the buildings. The woman's twitching escalated into seizing and she rolled onto her side, legs kicking uselessly.

"…what have you…done…?" a garbled voice asked.

Scar started in shock. It was another of those half-human creatures, like the one he'd put to rest three years ago in this same accursed city. The creature stalked nearer and Scar slowly backed up. It was much larger than the first one, and appeared more feline than canine, though it had a reptilian tail. It also seemed aggressive, whereas the other just wanted to be put out of its misery. It stopped by the bodies, nudging the twitching woman with a paw.

"…Summer…say something…" it growled.

The twitching stopped, and the woman became completely still.

The Chimera shrieked.

It was probably the most horrific sound Scar had ever heard, three sets of vocal cords merged and twisted, producing a sound that rattled his teeth like nails on a chalkboard. It also woke everyone on the block and probably the next few. Lights came on in window after window. A fight in the street might have been ignored, but not a sound like that. Scar fled, and the creature did not follow.

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"Two in one night?" Hughes asked as the car got rolling.

"Yes, sir," Major Leed said from the driver's seat.

Hughes had just spent the last six hours going over the scene of the last killing. The Silver Alchemist and the killer had torn up half the docks, but apparently the Silver Alchemist had lost, as they had finally dragged his corpse out of the river. He wondered how Summer's plan was going. No one had reported a building blown up, so he supposed she hadn't actually done…whatever it was she was planning to do. He hoped she'd hurry, though. This was getting beyond messy.

"Alright," Hughes said, "Where?"

"Downtown," Major Leed said. "Apparently someone in dispatch called away the Solar Alchemist's guards to help with the search by the docks. Solar and his girl were at some restaurant. Apparently they decided to walk home and didn't make it. Well, Solar didn't. It looks like the girl was dragged away; they tried to follow the blood trail but lost it. Sheesh, this just keeps getting creepier."

They saw the blinking lights of the emergency vehicles and slowed to a stop. Hughes stretched as he got out of the car and took a deep breath, making sure his stomach was settled before he approached the tarps, crime scene photographers, and gore.

"Anything new?" Hughes asked the Major in charge of the scene.

"No, all we got are these shoes and a trail of blood down this block and halfway up the next," the Major said.

"Any I.D. on the girl?" Hughes asked.

"Hang on, lemme' check with the guards," he said. "They must have gotten a name when Solar picked her up."

Keeping one of the bodies was a new and gruesome twist. He hoped they weren't dealing with another Barry the Chopper.

"Summers!" a man in a blue uniform called out halfway down the street. "The girl's name was Summers!"

Hughes looked down at the shoes, and the file folder fell out of his hands. The pages fluttered out all down the block, and wherever they landed, they soaked through with blood.

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The screaming woke him, not his own for once. Elem pushed out of the pile of ragged blankets that made up his bed, grabbed his coat, and stumbled out of the shack. It was nice to be woken by something other than his nightmares, but this would probably end up being something worse.

Most of his neighbors, in the Ishbalan section of the East refugee camp were already outside, pointing. He heard shouts warning of an animal, and stopped to pick up a length of pipe that lay on the ground. There'd never been anything bigger than feral dogs in the camp. As he hurried through the crowd, he tried to recall if any large predators lived near Central. Surely a bear couldn't get this far into the city.

Somebody else screamed and the crowd started to back up into him. He nearly fell as the mob began to retreat. Suddenly only he and a few other men were left between the animal and the crowd. It was large and feline, and a woman lay before it. For a moment he thought the thing had killed her, and he stepped forward. The animal looked up, and recognition froze him.

It had been months since he had seen the creatures, the Chimera, the Amestrisians had called them. He didn't know if he'd met this one, a mixture of lion and some kind of reptile. He hoped there was some human in there, too, or this probably wouldn't turn out well. He took another step closer. The Chimera bent its head and then moved towards him, pulling the woman. She was ragged and bloody, but the creature pulled her by her dress, rather than a limb, which seemed to imply it didn't wish to cause further harm.

"Can I…help?" Elem asked.

The other Ishbalans looked at him with confusion. The creature looked at him with yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.

"…you were…there…" the creature said, apparently recognizing another escapee from the lab. "…she saved you too…"

Elem walked up to the strange pair, and knelt by the woman. She was the same size as the Scrap Demon, or Slayer as she was also called. Her face was covered with blood instead of paint, though. He supposed it could be the same person. The woman was still breathing, and every once in while she would twitch.

"Do you want me to take her to a hospital?" he asked the creature.

"…no…they'd find her…take her…to a lab…" it growled.

"Then what?" Elem asked.

"Have to…get her…to the house…under the books…she'll heal if…she sleeps…" it said.

Elem wrapped his coat around the woman, and picked her up. He could feel blood soaking through his clothes and dripping down his back.

"Lead the way," he said.

The crowd parted for them, but no one seemed able to ask questions.

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**Author's Note**: Yeah I know, a bit of a cliffy, but all the pieces must be in place, MWAHAHAHAHAHA! Don't forget to review! Ed will be here next chapter!


	21. Chapter 21

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**With the Enemy, Alone**

Shezka knew she should have objected. Summer had offered her an extra security deposit and double rent to let her friend Dorchet stay, though, and that would keep her mother in her ward for another six months at least. Still Shezka was regretting it. She'd heard the outside basement door open. She heard heavy thumps on the steps and she knew they weren't Summer's foot steps. She heard men talking, and then a strange growling from something very big. She knew it wasn't a cat. Why had she told Summer she could keep an animal?

Shezka fretted at the top of the stairs. She should just call the police. She really should. But Summer was really nice and she didn't want to get her in trouble. But what if Summer was in trouble? She hadn't heard Summer's voice at all.

_I'll just take a look_, she thought. _I won't even go all the way down._

Nodding to herself and carrying only one small book pressed to her side, Shezka opened the latch and crept down the stairs. They didn't creak under her feet. The lights were on. That was a good sign. Sometime Summer would wander around without the lights on and scare her half to death. She bent down so she could see into the room without going any further down the steps.

She saw Dorchet standing on the far side of the room, and another man with dark skin and light hair. They were talking quietly and pointing at something on the table that their bodies blocked from view. There was something dark smeared all over their clothes. Motion caught the corner of her eye and for a moment she thought _the cat_, but as she focused fully on it she saw it was no such thing. It was a lion. It was crusty and dirty and there was something wrong with its tail, but it was obviously a lion. The two men moved as the lion approached, and Shezka saw past them.

Summer was laid out on the table, covered in blood, her eyes open and staring.

Shezka gasped.

The two men and the lion looked at her. Shezka dropped her book and ran.

"Stop!" one of them called.

She sprinted through the hall, knocking a tower of books over as she went. It fell with a huge clatter and one of the men cursed, but she could still hear foot steps behind her. _The kitchen, the phone_, she thought, knocking another pile over. She got through the door and her hand was stretching for the receiver when a weight dropped on her back and her knees, elbows, and chin hit the floor.

The weight crushed all the air out of her lungs. She tried to push him off of her, (it was a man and not the lion at least), but she wasn't strong enough. The weight shifted and an arm slid under her. She was lifted up off the floor and off her feet. The man holding her was saying something, but she couldn't hear him over her own attempts to call for help. His hand muffled her screaming and it all seemed to echo back inside her own head. She knew this wasn't helping, that she should try to bite him or scratch at his eyes, but her brain was spiraling down into a full out panic attack, all she could do was wail uselessly and shake.

_They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me. They're going to kill me. _

Shezka started to cry. She couldn't help it. Her roommate was dead in the basement and now they had her, and she was going to be murdered and chopped up and fed to a lion and they'd burn down her house and her books and he mother would be so mad at her…

"Oh crap," the man holding her muttered. It was Dorchet she realized. "Stop crying," he ordered. "Just…stop crying!"

"Who is she?" the dark skinned man asked.

He was standing by the stove and the lion was standing next to him.

"…she owns…the house…" the lion said.

_Oh god, the lion just talked! _

"Go down stairs," Dorchet ordered. "I'll take care of this."

_That sounds bad! That sounds really bad!_

The man and the lion walked out. Dorchet's grip became even tighter and he carried her towards the kitchen table. Shezka realized she'd left a knife out after she'd used it to slice bread for a sandwich.

_I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!_

She cried harder and some motor function seemed to be returning. She kicked and tried to pry his hands off of her but he wouldn't let go. She was a bit surprised when he sat down in one of the kitchen chairs with her in his lap.

"Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," Dorchet said. "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It's alright. Calm down, ok? Are you calm?"

Shezka nodded. He removed his hand.

"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me, please don't kill me-"

He put his hand over her mouth again.

"That isn't calm Shezka," he said. "Calm is quiet. Do you understand?"

She nodded. He let go of her face again and wiped his hand on his shirt. He shifted his other arm so she could turn and look at him, but he didn't let go enough for her to get away.

"Do you want to know what's going on?" Dorchet asked.

"Summer's…Summer's-" she tried to say.

"She's pretty messed up," Dorchet agreed solemnly.

"She's dead!" Shezka said, sniffling.

"The Boss isn't dead!" he growled and she flinched, shrieking a little.

"The Boss isn't dead," he said again, more calmly. "The Boss isn't like us. She doesn't die easy. She got hit with some major alchemy and she'll be down for a while, but she'll get up again. She just needs time."

"The hospital-" Shezka tried to say.

"They'll turn her over to the government and she'll end up in a lab," he said.

"Why?" Shezka asked.

"We're all escaped test subjects. The military used us and we've seen too much for them to let us go. I don't know where the Boss came from, but she got us out and they'd be more than happy to put her in the ground and put us all back in. I'm not going to let that happen."

"What…what are you going to do to me?" Shezka asked.

"Nothing, if you behave," he said.

"Behave?"

"No Screaming, no running away, and no phone calls, got it?" Dorchet said.

"Yes," Shezka said quietly.

He let go of her and she stood up. She thought she should grab the knife off the table, and try to call for help again, but her arms just hung at her side.

"Alright," Dochet said, taking her arm and pulling her towards the basement steps. "Come on. You're going to stay where we can keep an eye on you."

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Why take the body? It was all Hughes could think as he paced the scene. If the killer had gotten Summer, why take the body? He hadn't taken any of the others. Maybe she had crawled off on her own, but the blood leading away from the scene didn't attest to that. Was it because the attack had not killed her? Was he trying again until he got it right? Or did he realize she was more than a normal human? Was General Gran involved in this somehow? He was probably capable of blowing a man apart with alchemy. Summer could be in one of his labs. But that wouldn't make sense. Gran was just as pissed as everyone else that alchemists were dying left and right. He wasn't that good of an actor besides.

Word had gotten around Central very quickly that Summer Summers, the crazy girl from the typing pool had been carried off by the serial killer. It was just coming up on dawn and off-duty personnel were hanging around outside the barricade. He couldn't tell if it was concern or spite that brought them out, but their half overheard conversations weren't helping him think more clearly.

"Sir!" 2nd Lieutenant Ross said, hurrying towards him through the crowd. Her shadow, Sergeant Brosh, was not far behind.

"Have you found the body?" Hughes asked.

"No sir," the Lieutenant said, saluting. "We did however get a strange report from the East quarter refugee camp. At approximately 0200 this morning, many people in the camp claimed to have seen a large animal, possibly a lion, dragging the body of a woman in dress like the one Private Summers was last seen wearing. A man approached the lion and picked up the woman, and then followed the lion out of the camp."

"Do we have any I.D. on the man?" Hughes asked, very relieved.

It was probably Gabriel and Dorchet. If they had to carry her, it probably meant Summer was in a bad way, but she'd gotten over worse, hadn't she? Well, maybe not worse. More of the Solar Alchemist's brains were in the street than in his head. Still, Summer wasn't in Gran's hands or the killer's. That was something.

"No, Sir," Ross said. "Should we return to the camp and investigate further?"

"No," Hughes said. "Help canvas the immediate area and take statements."

"Yes, Sir!" she said, saluting again as she turned to go.

Hughes could hear Brosh asking Ross why she passed on such a crazy story as they moved off. Hughes knew he couldn't just duck away and go look for her. The hours crawled by. It was nine in the morning before he could leave the scene, and even then it was only to return to Central HQ so he could start filing reports.

Armstrong stopped by around noon, but all Hughes could tell him was that they hadn't found a body, and that if anyone could get out of a situation like that, it was Summer. Armstrong left with his fists clenched, and Hughes knew if the Major found the killer it was going to be a real mess. He frowned, rubbing his eyes. If this guy had taken Summer out, what chance did Armstrong have?

At seven he finally clocked out, stumbling slightly as he navigated the halls. He managed to catch a ride to his house with the Compass Alchemist and his guards, who had taken the last car in the auto pool, but had been willing to share. Hughes stumbled into his living room and left his uniform on the floor by the couch. He went upstairs to the closet and put on his most un-military clothing, and a heavy coat with a high collar. He sat down on the end of his wife's bed and waited for dark.

He'd never been to Summer's new room, which she'd described to him as the basement of the craziest library in the world, but she'd told him the address and it was still fresh in him mind, almost standing out in red letters now. He didn't know if he'd find her there, but it seemed the most likely place to start his search. When night had truly settled in, he slipped out the back door and started hopping fences.

Summer had warned him the Homunculi were on the loose again, so he couldn't risk leading them to her. He reached the street again and started walking towards downtown. Summer's new hideout wasn't that far from his own home, but he wasn't going to be traveling in straight lines. As he turned a corner and passed a well polished display window, he was glad he hadn't given in to the urge to run directly there. A woman was following him.

He didn't catch more than a glimpse, and he wasn't going to stop and stare, but he thought he recognized her from Summer's rather crude pictures. It was one of the homunculi, the one called Lust.

Hughes changed directions, heading instead for the rather run-down bars near Market street. He caught glimpses of the woman in the green dress and opera gloves following him, but she seemed in no hurry to close. He picked the nearest bar and ducked inside. He found a booth, ordered a drink, and settled down. His hands shook as the waitress handed him the glass. He knew he shouldn't, but he downed the scotch in one gulp and ordered another.

He put his face in his hands for a moment. If they were following him, it was likely they'd figured out that he knew the Scrap Demon and Summer, and had at some point figured out they were one in the same. There didn't seem to be any other reason to make a move now, unless they knew she was hurt. Did they know who had hurt her?

"Would you like some company?" a smoky female voice asked.

Hughes looked up, and stifled a groan. The homunculi in the green dress was standing by his table.

"No, thanks," Hughes said.

She slid into the booth, across the table from him, anyway. She kept her hands below the table, and Hughes recalled belatedly Summer's warning that the woman could extend her fingers into razor sharp blades.

"Do you know what's become of Private Summers?" the woman asked.

"I really couldn't tell you," Hughes said, debating whether or not to drop a blade out of the holster in his sleeve.

Summer said they wouldn't die. Mortal blows barely slowed them down. The woman put one of her elbows on the table and rested her head on her hand. She smiled faintly. He felt her other hand on his knee, nails digging in ever-so-slightly.

"We know she ran to your house the last time she was hurt, all those months ago," Lust said. "We've already checked your house, by the way; didn't find a trace of her. We did find all these envelopes post marked from Souss though. You didn't hide your family very well, Lt. Colonel Hughes."

"I don't know what you mean," he said.

"Well what I mean is," she said in a low voice. "It wouldn't be too much trouble for us to send someone out to Souss, to your parent's house. And it really wouldn't be that hard for that someone to kick in the door in the middle of the night, snap you parent's necks, splatter your daughter's guts across a wall, and rip your wife into little screaming pieces. Of course we wouldn't even bother if you were to stop playing these foolish games, and tell us where Private Summers is."

It was all he could do not to run for the nearest phone, the nearest train station. He kept his face expressionless, picked up his second drink, and downed it in a gulp.

"I don't know what you mean," he said again.

A stabbing pain shot up his thigh and he felt blood running down his leg and soaking into his socks.

"Maybe you should think a little harder," Lust said.

"Still drawing a blank," Hughes replied through clenched teeth.

A new pain seared up through his leg. He didn't look down. He didn't really want to see.

"I'm running out of patience," she said. "You're running out of leg."

"I don't know-"

Thunk!

Hughes flinched. He looked down and saw a dark green blade stretching from beneath the table and sticking into his side.

"Is this really worth dying over?" she asked.

"What would you know about dying?" Hughes replied.

This time the blade came straight up through the table, and stuck through his upper arm, pinning him to the vinyl seat of the booth.

"I've caused quite a lot of it," she said. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Hughes considered shrugging, but as that motion might cost him his arm, he decided against it. The homunculi sighed. The blades retracted and Hughes couldn't completely choke off an agonized gasp. Lust got up from the table and leaned over him. She put her now-normal-looking hand on his shoulder, wiping his blood off on his coat.

"Think about dying, Maes Hughes," she said. "Think about dying and whether or not you want your wife and daughter doing it with you. I'll visit you in the hospital."

She turned and walked out of the bar. Apparently their 'discussion' had drawn a bit of attention, and many eyes were on the homunculi as she walked out. Hughes thought it was also time for him to leave, but his right leg wouldn't take any weight. He looked at the growing puddle of blood on the seat of the booth and the floor. He waved the waitress over with his left hand, as the right had gone a bit numb below the puncture wound.

"Could you call an ambulance, please?" Hughes asked.

She nodded mutely, and he slumped over his table.

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It had been two whole days. Blood wasn't poring out of her anymore, but that could just mean she had run out. Dorchet couldn't feel a pulse, and when he leaned his ear against her chest to listen for her heart beat, he still couldn't tell. There was a handprint outlined on her forehead, and the bone beneath it was spongy. Every once in a while she would twitch though, and rigor hadn't set in. That had to mean something, didn't it? She didn't smell like a corpse at least.

The Boss had never stayed down this long. Even when she was shot in the head she'd show some improvement after a couple of hours. Now there was nothing. Maybe it was because she was attacked with alchemy. Maybe it canceled out whatever power had allowed her to regenerate. He needed to talk to an alchemist, but the only ones the Boss trusted, the Elric brothers, had been gone for months.

He looked around the room. Gabriel was dozing in front of the door. Elem sat on the couch with his arms crossed and a far away look on his face. The Ishbalan hadn't taken well to the idea that one of his people had attacked Summer, but Gabriel had been certain. The killer was an Ishbalan with an x-shaped scar across his face. Next to Elem sat Shezka, a book clutched to her chest as she rocked back and forth. Dorchet felt guilty for scaring her, since she was the Boss's friend…or under the Boss's protection at least. She seemed to have calmed down, but if she acted up, they'd have to incapacitate her further.

"Can you keep an eye on things?" Dorchet asked Elem.

The Ishbalan nodded. Gabriel sat up suddenly and scowled, but Dorchet wasn't in the mood to humor the stupid cat. If he'd done his job, the Boss wouldn't have gotten hurt.

_If she hadn't sent me away…_

Dorchet shook off the thought. "I'm going to see if Marta and Loa are in town yet, and maybe find her buddy Hughes. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Elem nodded, glancing over at the body. Dorchet picked up one of the swords he'd brought to Central with him, and strapped it onto his back. He arranged his coat over it. Gabriel growled as Dorchet passed and he growled back. If the Boss wasn't in trouble, he'd tear that friggin' cat a new one.

Central was unusually quiet. He went by the train station, but couldn't catch Loa or Marta's scents. Hughes wasn't at his house, and Dorchet wasn't going to risk running through the Military headquarters to look for him. He checked his watch. He'd left Shezka's house an hour ago. With a frustrated growl he headed for downtown, to the scene of the attack.

They'd taken down the yellow tape, and made a cursory effort to wash away the blood, but it still stained the cobbles. He was a little surprised to find a pile of flowers and candles set up in a make-shift memorial around one of the larger stains. Dorchet waited there for a half hour, watching. Several people came by to add to it. He recognized a few from the market, and some were soldiers still in uniform. He wondered if the Boss knew she was this popular, or that her alter ego was so famous. (He still thought of the Slayer as the real her.)

He was a bit startled when he heard Lt. Colonel Hughes mentioned by a couple of secretaries, who were dropping off flowers and a handful of broken typewriter keys. He focused in on their conversation.

"-to a bar when he got off work. Some woman just walked in, stabbed him, and walked out," one said.

"It wasn't his wife was it?" the other asked.

"Nope. But did you hear the rumor about him and Private Summers?"

"Which one?"

"Scuse me?" Dorchet said, butting in.

They turned to look at him, slightly offended.

"Did you say somebody stabbed Hughes?" he asked.

"Yeah," one said. "Last night. He's in the Military hospital at HQ. What's it to you?"

"Not a thing," Dorchet said.

He turned and took off at a sprint. It looked like he'd have to visit the base anyway.

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The military hospital wasn't as heavily guarded as he expected, but it was still a challenge to get by Major Armstrong, who was guarding the door to Hughes' room. Dorchet borrowed some scrubs, a clipboard and a nurses' I.D. talked his way in, though Armstrong insisted the door remain open while he spoke to Hughes.

Dorchet nearly choked on the desperation and terror in the room as he entered. There wasn't a window, which was good for security, but bad for someone with such a dominant sense of smell. Hughes looked a bit surprised to see him, but didn't say anything incriminating. The only bandages he could see were around Hughes' right arm, but from his pale face, he guessed there were a lot more hidden by his blankets.

"How are you feeling this evening, sir?" Dorchet asked, though his nose was telling him bad, with a side of agony.

"Alright, I guess," Hughes said.

As they spoke, Dorchet began to write on the clipboard.

**Summer's alive, but out. Where's Elric?**

Hughes looked relieved by the first part and confused by the second. He held out his left hand for the pen and wrote out a number and extension for Eastern HQ.

"Are your pain-killers working?" Dorchet asked as the silence seemed to be stretching too long.

**Who attacked you? t**he Chimera wrote.

Hughes looked at him long and hard as Dorchet held up the clipboard. He took the pen from the chimera.

**Lust. They know where my wife is.**

Armstrong looked into the room again, and Hughes started some rambling description of his daughter's latest drawing.

**Do you want out of here? **Dorchet wrote.

**No. They'll follow. Tell Gracia to go somewhere else. Tell her to run.**

Hughes wrote out another phone number and extension. Dorchet nodded and tucked the papers they'd written on into his shirt. Dorchet left after that. As he walked through the hall he picked up an unpleasantly familiar scent. There was a homunculi in the building.

He thought it over as he ditched the scrubs and got back into his own clothing. He couldn't beat one of those things on his own, and though he liked Hughes well enough, the Boss came first. Hughes survived one run in with those creatures, he might be able to slide through another. Dorchet would warn his family. It was the best he could do for now.

He snuck off of military property, and went looking for a pay phone. He found one, but paused before entering. He sniffed the air, but didn't find anything. With great foreboding he pulled open the red folding door of the booth, and stepped in. Dialing took forever, and he felt watched as he waited for the operators to put him through to Eastern HQ. Even after he gave them the extension, they continued to demand more information, of which he had very little. He finally went to repeating the same request again and again, hoping the Fullmetal Alchemist was famous enough for them to know where to send him.

"I need to talk to Edward Elric," Dorchet said for the hundredth time.

"Hang on a moment," the latest operator said.

The line clicked and popped as connections were made.

"Hello?" a man answered.

"I need to talk to Edward Elric," Dorchet said again.

"Fullmetal is out on assignment," the man said with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"Where? Do you have the number?" Dorchet asked. The watched feeling was growing.

"Who is this?" the man asked.

"Who is this?" Dorchet demanded right back.

"You realize it's a crime to misuse military lines, don't you?" the man said in the same bored tone.

"You realize I'm about three seconds from getting on a train and coming out there to kick your ass?" he yelled into the phone.

"Are you really?" the other said, amused.

Dorchet couldn't help it. He snarled into the phone and heard the hand set on the other end hit the floor as it was dropped in surprise. There was some more clattering as it was retrieved.

"Are you still there?" the now not-so-amused man asked.

"Yeah," Dorchet growled.

"Fullmetal is out of contact. If you have a message I could pass it along the next time he checks in," the man said.

Dorchet frowned. He didn't trust the military, especially faceless nobodies buried somewhere in the bureaucracy. Still, it didn't look like he was going to get anything else out of this phone call.

"Tell Fullmetal that half his contacts in Central have been sliced up and he needs to get his runty ass out here, now!" Dorchet said.

He hoped that was cryptic enough to avoid direct trouble. He hung up the phone before the other man could talk again, and started dialing the next number. He had just gotten through to a sleep befuddled Gracia in Souss when somebody tapped on the glass door of the booth.

"Hughes says run," Dorchet said.

He dropped the receiver and went for his sword.

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"Who was it, Sir?" Lt. Riza Hawkeye asked her C.O. as he stared at the phone in his hand. She could hear the dial tone.

"A man who refused to identify himself," Colonel Mustang said. "He wants me to tell Fullmetal to get back to Central."

"Do you think it has something to do with the killings?" she asked.

Mustang frowned. "Do we have the latest casualty report?" he asked.

Hawkeye stepped up to his desk and fished expertly through the in-box the Colonel had made only the most cursory attempt to clear. She pulled out the report and handed it to him. He started reading through the list.

"The Silver Alchemist, the Solar Alchemist, Captain Donovan, Sergeant Tems, Private Lee, Private Montgomery, Private Smith, Private Summers-"

He stopped reading for a moment.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked.

"I think it would be best if Fullmetal didn't see this list."

"Yes, sir. Though I don't know if that will be a problem. He still hasn't reported in from West Lodia," Hawkeye pointed out.

Mustang frowned, and wondered if he wasn't too late to stop his subordinate from rushing into something stupid.

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**The Eastern Boarder Delivery Line, Four days earlier…**

"I can do this on my own," Ed said for the thousandth time.

Lt. Jean Havoc just shrugged and took another drag on his cigarette. "The Colonel says 'go with you', I go with you."

Ed frowned and pushed the window open a little further, making a show of getting rid of the smoke. They were in the cheap seats, the third class car instead of a private compartment, and despite having been in the same car for fourteen hours, the people around them were still giving them funny looks. Of course a large suit of armor, a slacking soldier with a rifle, and a guy in a bright red coat tended to draw stares. At least the crowd was starting to thin. Thankfully not many wanted to go to West Lodia. _Especially__ me_, Ed thought.

"We can handle a few loose Chimera," Ed insisted.

Havoc shrugged again. "You seemed to have trouble after the thing with Tucker," he pointed out casually.

Ed bit down a retort. It had been about three years since the incident with Tucker and Nina, and Mustang, the Bastard Colonel, still wouldn't let it go. Of course there was another reason Ed didn't want Havoc along. If the Chimera accused of attacking people were the ones Summer had released from that Lab in Central…the rules might require some bending for the situation to be resolved. Ed had only ever met a handful of those Summer had freed, but they didn't seem the type to draw attention to themselves. So there had to be something else going on, and now on top of that he'd have to worry about Havoc reporting every little thing to the Colonel.

Of course the Colonel seemed to find out about everything he did, whether he reported it of not: the mess in Leore, the thief, Psiron, the fake Elrics in Xenotime. The only big secret Ed and Al still had was the Chimera and Summer and whatever it was they had been up to during the quarantine and plague. They'd given the Colonel a few details, but only enough to torture his curiosity. Ed was very fond of saying 'I was sick and don't remember it so well'. If those chimera were loose in West Lodia it would probably all come out.

Ed went over the file again. So far, twenty people had been reported missing over the past few weeks, and the population of homeless and transients had all but vanished from the town. The local constable had found one body, but most of the soft tissue had rotted away, so the cause of death wasn't obvious. There were suspicions that the people were being kidnapped and sold as slaves over the boarder to Cretia, but there was nothing to back that up.

The chimera theory had been included in the report by some low level officer, who claimed to have seen one. The man reported that late one night a strange woman with a lumpy face, yellow eyes, and fangs came to his window, and tried to get him to come outside. No one else believed the man, but Mustang had jumped all over the report, and passed the grunt-work down to Ed.

Tacked on at the very end was a third theory about alien abduction, since half the town had reported seeing a strange "other worldly" light in some nearby mountains a few days before the disappearances started. At this point Ed was sort of hoping for saucer people.

"Big Brother," Al said as he looked out the window of the train. "I've got a bad feeling."

"About what?" Ed asked as he went over the witness list that had been forwarded.

"I don't know," Al said as dusk settled over the train. "I just feel…like…something bad is going to happen."

"Something bad always happens," Ed said dismissively.

"Don't worry about it," Havoc said. "If it was something really big, the Colonel would have sent more people."

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The West Lodia station was completely deserted. The three of them wandered through the station, as dim electric bulbs flickered on and off above their heads. There was a public phone booth just outside, but it didn't have a dial tone. Ed frowned and glared at the clock above the station entrance. It was a quarter past nine. He looked up and down the street. The stats for the town put the population at 2783, but not a single person was out.

"What kind a' town shuts down at nine!" Ed demanded.

"Don't know, Chief," Havoc said, stamping out another cigarette. "This whole place is too damn quiet."

"Was somebody supposed to meet us?" Al asked.

Ed shrugged. "Who cares? Let's find a hotel. We can bother the local Military office in the morning."

"Right," Havoc said. "Map said they're all towards the center of town."

Havoc took the lead, and Ed was a bit surprised when the soldier took his rifle from his shoulder and undid the safety. As they walked Ed started to get an unpleasant feeling on the back of his neck. He could see lights on in just about every house, but he heard no voices, and the shadows that moved across windows were quick and nervous.

Ed saw someone peering through the curtains of their living room, a girl with large frightened eyes. He stopped walking and considered knocking on the door, to ask what the hell was wrong, but she ducked away and the cloth pulled shut again. Ed frowned and turned to catch up with Al and Havoc, who were halfway down the block and walking much too fast.

A hand clamped over his mouth. He was lifted off his feet and carried into an alley. Ed kicked but he couldn't loosen the arm, like a steel band across his chest. His automail arm was pinned to his side while the other was tugging uselessly at the hand over his mouth, which suddenly pulled, wrenching his head back and to the side, against his attacker's shoulder. He thought for a second that the man was going to cut his throat, but to do that he'd have to let go with one hand or the other. He tensed, waiting for his chance.

A sharp stabbing pain shot through his neck and he yelped, though the hand over his mouth stole most of the sound.

_Did this freak just bite me?!_

Ed kicked but his attacker just shuffled forward and squashed Ed's lower body between himself and the wall of the alley. He tried to bite the hand silencing him. His attacker just laughed, causing his teeth to slide around in Ed's neck and sending out another wave of stinging pain. This was followed by a horrible slurping sound, and Ed realized his attacker had not only bitten him, he was drinking his blood.

_What the hell? What the hell?_

Ed tried twisting. He tried to push against the wall and knock both himself and his attacker over, but the man only squashed him harder against the bricks.

His heart shuddered. Ed knew this feeling. He'd had it before, when half his blood had been spilled out over the basement floor of his mother's house in Resembool. His heart didn't have enough to work with. How could this guy be drinking so much blood? Ed's mind started to wander over the calculations. It shouldn't be possible to drink someone to death. The human stomach couldn't hold much more than a liter and Ed, based on body weight, had to have at least six pints of blood…

His kicks were getting weaker, and apparently the man wasn't worried about him tipping them over any more, since he stepped back from the wall. His attacker's grip was slacking. The jaws clamped on his neck let up.

"It's almost over, little one," the man whispered in his ear.

His vision didn't clear, but suddenly Ed's world turned red.

_LITTLE ONE?_

Maybe he could stand being murdered in an alley, but calling him that? Adrenalin surged passed pain and fear and he thrashed like a maniac, breaking his surprised attacker's grip. Ed somersaulted forward and bounced off the alley wall. His feet swung upwards, clipping his attacker in the chin. His head was spinning as he rolled upright again and brought his hands together, transmuting his right arm into a blade.

The light in the alley was poor, but Ed could see the shadowed figure coming at him. He dropped to one knee and swept the blade up. Dust rained down on him and got in his eyes. He gasped and started to choke on the foul powder. He tried to wipe his eyes clear, looking for his attacker. The alley seemed empty. He was certain his blade had connected. He'd felt the resistance. Had the man just thrown something on him and run away?

Ed got up leaning against the wall of alley. He looked around blinking as his vision went dark. He sank back to his knees and for a moment sight came back. He had to find Al. He crawled towards the mouth of the alley. His head hurt and though he could see again, his vision was tunneled and foggy. He got to the end of alley, and decided it would be a good idea to rest, for just a second. He'd just closed his eyes for a second…or a minute…and then he'd be able to go look for Al…

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**Author's Note: **So, whadya think? Hmmmmmmmmmmm? Reviews are good! Reviews are great! More reviews means faster update!

Also, for all the people yelling for Dawn, she won't be here for a few chapters, but she's keeping busy while we aren't watching!


	22. Chapter 22

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Fools and Children**

Greg watched as the soldier and the armored man scooped up the boy, and ran towards the center of town. He was wary of the armored one. He couldn't hear or smell a person in it. Well, he could hear the childish voice echoing from it, asking the soldier if his 'big brother' would be alright, but there was no heartbeat. There was no breathing.

Greg had watched Beal grab the kid, but something wasn't right about the little brat, so he'd hung back. The kid turned out to be an alchemist. The local magic wasn't something he understood. Even on the hellmouth he hadn't seen anything like it, so he was cautious. He sat back as the boy's arm turned into a blade. He'd watched Beal lose his head.

Greg was supposed to oversee the fledglings, make sure they didn't risk exposure or do anything really stupid when they fed. He didn't know how his master would take this. Beal wasn't anything special, a decent fighter with knowledge of this world, but they had a hundred more just like him. Still, their master wasn't the forgiving sort. She'd already dusted half the vampires she'd brought with her. It wasn't like she couldn't replace them now.

"Are we gonna' stop them?" Tolman asked, dropping down from a roof into the alley.

"Let see what they do," Greg said. "If the kid doesn't make it, we don't have much to worry about."

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_Al was trying to be quiet. Dorchet was snoring lightly on the table, and he didn't want to wake him. He almost didn't see Summer looking out the window into the slushy backyard of the Hughes' house._

_"Is something out there?" Al asked._

_"There's always **something** out there," she said. "But if you mean are there homunculi in the yard, no. The only one around here is Greed."_

_"Is he…is he really…dead?" Al asked._

_"He remembers bits of a life from before this," Summer said. "Like I do. I don't think he's dead, though. His heart beats. He walks in sunlight."_

_"Does that really matter?"_

_"What?" she asked._

_"The sun," Al said._

_"I remember…they only come out at night," Summer said. "Sunlight burns them, sets them on fire. But if you're underground, in the dark, in caves, in basements, in sewers…they're still awake down there. The undead follow the rules. Vampires follow rules."_

_"Are you sure they're real?" Al asked._

_"As sure as I am that I'm real."_

_"But who makes them?" Al asked. "It would take a lot of energy just to reanimate a body, and to put the soul back in-"_

_"They don't have souls," Summer said. "They have demons."_

_"But there's no such thing," Al said._

_"Why?" she asked._

_"Because…because there just aren't. It's easier to believe they're just empty than to believe that."_

_Summer only shrugged._

_"How do you know the Homunculi aren't what you're remembering?"_

_"They don't follow the rules. They don't die in the sun, or when you cut off their heads. A stake through the heart doesn't kill them. They have reflections and can enter any house they please."_

_"But that doesn't make sense," Al protested again. "How could they not have reflections?"_

_"I don't know why; I only know."_

Al shifted as his mind snapped back to the present. He didn't sleep, and he didn't dream, but sometimes if he wasn't thinking of something else, his memories would float to the surface and take over. Summer's stories of her half-remembered life had always seemed mostly imagined to Al. She didn't share them often, and they only seemed to slip out when she was lost in them herself. Al wondered if their minds were that similar. She didn't sleep much, either.

Al sat outside the hospital entrance, watching the locals scurry by the hospital. The people of West Lodia did not want to be out, even in the center of town, so close to help. They knew something was hunting them in the dark, even if they didn't believe who or why. Streetlights were no kind of protection. People passed by less and less as the night wore on.

The doctor and nurses told him to wait. They told him he would be in the way and Al believed them. It wasn't a very big hospital, just a wide, two-story building. They had sounded competent, using big words like exsanguinated, and hemorrhaging. They wouldn't need to say those things if he'd been paying attention. Al wrung his hands together and the grinding steel shrieked like nails on a chalkboard.

When he had looked back and saw Ed wasn't following, he thought he'd just wandered off, or stopped to look at something, but when he and Havoc found him in the mouth of that alley with the punctures in his neck, the word Vampire lit up inside his head. He'd tried to tell Havoc, but the important words didn't come out, only the stupid ones, like 'is he ok' and 'what's wrong'. Al could tell what was wrong. His brother had been bitten.

Could it be vampires? He thought maybe Summer was making them up, or mixing them up with something she'd really seen, like chimeras. There were stories about creatures that stole life and sucked blood, from old legends to comic books his mother had said he was too young to read.

He remembered Ed lecturing him about how monsters couldn't exist when he'd been afraid to sleep in their mother's house after she died. He'd been sure that without an adult around, without the lights on, something would crawl in a window or out of a closet and get them. Something would come like smoke under the door. Ed had lectured him about what was and was not physically possible, and Al had bowed to the wisdom of his brother, who'd lived nine years in comparison to his eight.

Al put a hand to his armored chest. What was there to be afraid of, especially now?

Al looked through the double doors. Havoc had promised to come back out and tell him everything as soon as Ed was stable. It had been almost two hours.

Al took out his chalk and fiddled nervously with it. No one was really watching him. He scribbled a transmutation circle on each of the windows in the doors. He pressed his hand to each of them, focusing, and then stepped back to inspect the mirrors he'd made. The sun wouldn't be up for hours, but it would probably do. He stood back, still as a statue, waiting for Havoc to return.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Ed opened his eyes and saw a white ceiling. His head was killing him.

"Hey Chief," Havoc said.

As Ed sat up, groaning, a huge cup of juice was thrust into his hands and the end of a straw was poked into his mouth. He took it with his automail hand, since his left arm was stuck full of I.V. tubes.

"Drink," Havoc ordered, raising his own cup in a toast.

Ed obeyed, hoping the fluids would do something for his monstrous headache.

"What happened?" Ed asked, between swallows.

"We noticed you weren't behind us," Havoc said. "We backtracked and found you in an alley, covered in dirt with two holes punched in your neck."

Ed brought up his free hand, and felt at the spot through the bandage, wincing more from the tug of the I.V. than the neck wound. He blinked. Was he stabbed? No, that wasn't it. Ed jumped slightly as a loud slurp echoed through the room. He realized it was just the straw in the now-empty cup he held. He stopped trying to drink and it got quiet. For some reason he couldn't quite put cause and effect together.

"Do you remember what happened?" Havoc asked him as Ed looked into the bottom of the cup.

"We got off the train," Ed said slowly. "We were walking. There was a kid looking out a window, and I stopped…"

Havoc leaned forward, and Ed noticed he had his rifle in his lap and a bandage around the crook of his left arm.

"What happened to you?" Ed asked as he stalled, hoping his thoughts would order themselves.

Havoc said. "Unfortunately some whiney brat with a neck wound needed a blood transfusion or three. I'm an O, so I pitched in."

It took Ed longer than it should have to figure out what was being implied.

"Uh…thanks," he said.

"Don't worry about it," Havoc said. "You're just forever in my debt."

Ed snorted.

"Of course," Havoc continued, "It wasn't like you needed much blood, since you're so volumetrically challenged."

Ed had to settle for a glare because his head hurt too much to yell. It hurt more than his neck, for some reason.

"Wow," Havoc said. "Didn't realize you were that sick, Chief. Sorry for being so bitchy. They won't let me smoke."

"Whatever," Ed said. "Where's Al?"

"He's outside," Havoc said. "The doctors were worried he'd knock something over. He's standing guard."

"Why?" Ed asked.

"Do you remember what happened?" Havoc asked again. "Because, according to the nurses, more than a few people have turned up in the last few days with wounds just like yours."

"Like mine?" Ed asked.

He'd been looking in that window…

Havoc nodded. "But you're the only one that's turned up alive."

A hand closed over his mouth…

"They'd all bled to death," Havoc said. "The police didn't find any blood at the scene."

He felt teeth shifting in his neck. The bastard was laughing at him…

"He bit me!" Ed declared suddenly. "That bastard bit me! That &#$ing bastard bit me and called me 'little one'! What the hell? You just called me short too, didn't you?"

Havoc laughed and backed off. "You had me worried for a second there, Chief," he said.

Ed struggled to keep his breathing even as his vision swam a little.

"Did you get a look at the guy who bit you?" Havoc asked.

Ed shook his head. "He grabbed me from behind. I kicked loose. I turned and he ran at me, but it was too dark. I transmuted a blade, and I swung at him. I'm sure I hit him, but then all this powder…dust…I don't know what it was, it flew in my face and I couldn't see. I think he might've run off. I tried to find Al…and you, but I must've passed out."

Havoc nodded. "Did he have some kind of machine to drain your blood out?" he asked.

Ed looked at him like he was stupid. "He bit me. He was…drinking it."

Havoc stared at him. "Get some sleep," he said. "The locals are all going to want to talk to you in the morning."

"What time is it?" Ed asked.

"3am," Havoc said.

"Don't you need to sleep?" Ed asked.

"I'm not going to shut my eyes till sun up, thanks."

"You think that nut-job will come back?" Ed asked.

Havoc shifted his chair a bit, putting more space between him and Ed's bed.

"All the other bodies they found vanished the next night," Havoc said. "A few morgue workers and a nurse have vanished, too. Get some sleep, Chief. One of us should."

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"Are you Alphonse Elric?" the nurse asked.

She looked very tired, so Al was extra polite.

"Yes ma'am. Is my brother alright?"

She nodded. "He's stable and resting. His other guard is going to stay with him, Lieutenant Havoc? He said he'd let you take over in the morning."

Al looked up at the sky. It wasn't even colored at the edge yet, but he knew dawn couldn't be more than an hour or two away.

"That's great! Thank you, ma'am," he said, bowing.

The nurse nodded, chewed her lip, and then asked another question.

"Do you have any idea what attacked your…brother?" she asked.

Al wanted very strongly to say vampires, but he didn't think that would go over well. He was about to say 'no' when he noticed a man had stopped walking a few feet away from them. He seemed a little too interested in their conversation. In fact, Al thought he had seen that same man walk past the hospital an hour before. Al leaned toward the nurse. She leaned in as well.

"I have a theory," Al said as quietly as possible. "I'll show you."

Al couldn't tell if the man was listening in, but he…felt…for the lack of a better term, that someone was coming up behind him. Al took a piece of chalk from his belt and held it so only he and the nurse could see what was in his hand. She leaned closer still, confused but interested. At the corner of his vision, something moved. Al's hand darted out, catching the arm of the man who'd crept up to them so he could see, too.

"Who are you?" Al demanded, holding him.

The nurse stepped back, shrieking a little.

"Get the police!" Al ordered.

The nurse nodded, rushing back inside. The doors swung closed and open again after her. In the windows Al had transmuted into mirrors, Al could see his own reflection. He could see himself standing in the street with empty hands.

"Who are you?" he asked the man again.

"Let go!" the man growled.

He writhed in Al's grip, twisting before the mirrors that showed only Al rocking and overbalancing without cause. A normal person would have a broken wrist by now, but Al's grip seemed only an inconvenience to him.

"Let go of me!" the man demanded. "Crazy tin can! Let go!"

"Why don't you have reflection?" Al demanded. "Are you a vampire?"

The man's face froze at the last word. Suddenly, the man lunged at Al and his face changed. His eyes turned yellow and his face bulged and wrinkled. The man opened his mouth and growled, exposing huge fangs. Al wasn't quite prepared for the change in direction, and the man's wrist slipped from his grasp. Al tried to catch him again, but he sprinted up the street, turned the corner, and vanished from sight. Al looked through the empty streets, and then returned to the hospital entrance. The police never did come.

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Ed woke up in a bad mood just before noon. His mouth was gritty and everything was too bright as he looked around the room. Al was standing in the doorway looking out and Havoc was asleep, leaning back in one chair with his feet propped up on another. Havoc was snoring slightly. His rifle was leaned against the wall and his arms were crossed over his chest, one hand clutching at the pocket where he kept his cigarettes. Ed thought he should be more concerned with protecting his neck. Ed looked around for his clothes.

"You up, Chief?" Havoc asked, without opening his eyes.

"Yeah," Ed said. "Anything else happen?"

Al had turned to look at them and was fidgeting nervously, but he didn't speak.

"Some guy tried to get into the hospital early this morning," Havoc said. "Your brother tried to grab him but he got away. The local military office sent some soldiers over about an hour ago to escort you to a meeting with the mayor. The hospital called for them last night, but somehow the message got mixed up. I don't know how "get your ass over here right now!" could be unclear, but they'll walk us over there when the doctors have cleared you."

Ed nodded and the doctors were called in. The wound in his neck had developed two crescent-shaped bruises, more or less in the outline of human dentition, the doctor had pointed out. It was also discovered that Ed had a cracked rib and a large bruise across his chest from being grabbed. Ed asked if anything could be done for his headache. The doctor advised him not to overexert himself.

Ed wondered aloud how no one had figured out what was attacking people in the area with so many competent professionals around.

Ed walked to the bathroom to get cleaned up and dressed, with Al shadowing him in case he passed out. The doctors had cut him out of his clothes, but they hadn't been thrown out, so he fixed them up with some quick transmutation. He was leaning over the sink to wash his face when the mirror caught his attention. It took him a second to recognize himself. There were huge dark circles around his eyes and his face was almost colorless. He looked up and noticed Al was studying his reflection as well.

"Something wrong?" Ed asked sourly.

"No, Big Brother," Al said. "You just look pretty awful."

Al sounded unusually relieved by that statement.

There were four soldiers in Amestrisian military uniforms waiting for them outside. The men gave Al respectful nods and asked him if his little brother was alright. Ed started to tell them off, but blacked out before he got a whole sentence out. Apparently they were put right about his identity as he lay on the sidewalk, since they saluted him rather formally as Havoc helped him up. Al dragged out a nurse, who thought he should be put back in the hospital for rest and observation, but Ed insisted he was fine. Havoc decided they would split the difference and borrowed a wheelchair to transport Ed in, since the military hadn't sent a car. Ed objected to that too, but he got lightheaded again, and it wasn't difficult for Al to wrestle him into the chair.

The Mayor, Simon Rustle, called them to the town hall, which was the largest building in West Lodia (a whole three stories high) and adjacent to the military offices. Ed suspected the building would have the most stairs in town as well, but as luck would have it, the Mayor's office was on the ground floor. Ed got out of the chair and walked stubbornly into the building, since the Mayor did not come out to meet him. The halls got progressively darker as they followed the little plaques on the wall directing them toward the local top dog.

They were met by a polite but harried secretary when the doors to the Mayor's office finally came in sight.

"Mr. Rustle said he'd like to speak to the Fullmetal Alchemist in private," she said.

"Fine," Ed grumbled, marching past her.

She started to object, but he heard Al introducing himself as the Fullmetal Alchemist's younger brother, and then he was through the doors. They swung shut behind him.

The room was lit with fancy stained-glass lamps, though Ed thought it would have been easier and much cheaper just to open the heavy velvet curtains along the right wall. The stuffiness of the room told him neither the curtains nor the windows had been open in a while. The furniture in the Mayor's office had probably cost more than all the equipment in the hospital Ed had just gotten out of. The carpet was so thick, even Ed couldn't hear the clunk of his automail foot as he walked. The desk, behind which sat a doughy man with oily hair and a pinstriped suit, weighted at least a ton, and they must have taken out a wall to bring it in, since the doors couldn't possibly have accommodated it. There were two intricately carved chairs on his side of the desk, and Ed flopped into one without invitation.

"You Rustle?" he asked.

The man behind the desk nodded. "And you are the Fullmetal Alchemist? I was expecting someone…older."

"And I was expecting to get time off to work on my research projects instead of being sent to the middle of nowhere to look for missing people and chimera, but here we are," Ed concluded.

The Mayor watched him for a long moment before speaking in a decidedly patronizing tone.

"To be honest, I don't know if your presence is really necessary. We don't even know for sure that these people are missing," he said. "They've been seen by neighbors and relatives, and while their behavior is decidedly erratic, I don't think what's going on here is the military's concern."

"The people at the hospital seemed to think quite a few of your town's people have been found dead." Ed said.

"They do say that, but I've yet to see a body," the Mayor replied. "Every time I or my deputies go over to inspect these 'findings' they tell me the bodies have gone missing. I am sure something is going on, but I think it's doctors who think they need to be paid more, rather than some corpse-snatching conspiracy."

Ed shrugged. "If we hear about possible Alchemic experimentation, we have to check it out. And the guy who bit me last night, in your conspiracy-free town, wasn't carrying a normal set of human teeth. That just screams chimera. I've dealt with this kind of thing before," he concluded.

The mayor seemed more amused by this than anything else. "Have you, now?" he asked.

Ed frowned. He hated it when people thought he was incompetent just because he was young. "There have been several cases of human experimentation over the last decade. Most end up classified by the military, but it's more common than you might think. If we find out who's making these things out of your people, we can drag them back to Central for trial and you can take all the credit. I don't see you having a downside in this situation."

"You have a reputation for causing chaos, Fullmetal. I want my town intact when you go on your merry way."

"Well, unless your whole town is in on some kind of anti-government conspiracy, the amount of chaos I'm allowed to cause is strictly limited."

The mayor waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, Major Nito can show you around. Have my secretary call him over. And do try not to run afoul of anymore "chimera". The paperwork is getting bothersome."

Ed nodded and suppressed the urge to cave in a few ceiling beams as he left the office.

"Trouble, Chief?" Havoc asked.

"No, just another political jerk who doesn't think he's got a problem until it literally bites him on the ass," Ed said. "I wish it'd bit him first."

"Oh, don't mind him so much," the secretary said. "He was very ill last week with fever. The light still hurts his eyes. He's usually much more pleasant. This is all very stressful, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed said. "He said to call up Major Nito."

"Of course," the secretary said.

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Major Nito was a small, dark-skinned man with a shaved head and a mustache that looked like dirt on his upper lip. He met them on the steps of the town hall, two hours after the mayor's secretary had called him. The four guards who'd escorted them had vanished. Havoc and the Major exchanged salutes while Ed scowled. Nito nearly fell over when Al bowed and said 'hello'. He'd apparently thought Al was a new statue the Mayor had put in front of the building.

"Sorry I'm late," Nito said. "Fell asleep at my desk."

Ed didn't know if he believed that. It looked as if the Major hadn't slept in weeks, naps included.

"We're going to need all the reports on the disappearances and 'chimera' sighting," Ed said.

"Right," Nito said. "We'll have to go through the records department ourselves. The file clerk didn't come in this morning."

Nito led them down the block to the military offices. Ed, despite his objections, was made to sit in the wheelchair again. The building was shorter than the town hall but wider, with an auto pool around the back. Ed caught a glimpse of several wrecked jeeps. There were a few people in the front offices, and they watched with interest as Ed was wheeled through.

When they got to the stairs leading down to the record room, Ed thought he'd be freed from the chair, but Al just picked up both older brother and chair, and walked down, into an expansive cinderblock basement with moldering boxes of rations and ammunition in towering piles. Ed resisted the urge to make a face at the smell.

The 'record room' was just a corner of a much larger basement, a few dozen file cabinets and shelves blocked off by a not-quite-ceiling-high chain link fence with a gate in it. There was a chain and padlock hanging on the gate, but apparently no one felt like connecting it to anything. Nito pushed the gate open, not the least bit embarrassed by the lax security. He picked up a box that was sitting in the middle of the floor and put it in Ed's lap.

"I guess Richard, the clerk, didn't put these away after Constable Melba finished looking through them," Nito said. "I don't think they did her much good, anyway."

Ed thought back to the report he'd been reading on the train.

"Is she the one who found the first body?" Ed asked.

"She found quiet a few," Nito said. "She and Sergeant Leem were really pushing the 'chimera' theory despite the Mayor telling them to stop causing a panic. Was there only one body mentioned in your report?"

Ed nodded. "One dead, twenty-something missing."

"Must've been an old report," Nito said. "It's closer to a hundred missing. And we've found more than one body, they just don't stay found."

"What do you mean?" Ed asked.

"Well the ones with the neck wounds, they vanish from the morgue or the graveyard a day or two after they're found. Sergeant Leem was staking out the graveyard to try and catch the body snatchers. He vanished the night before last."

"All of this was happening and you've sent one report?" Havoc asked.

"We sent one report to Southern," Nito said. "Most of our help comes from the border station, anyway, since they're a little closer."

"And what help have they been sending?" Ed asked.

"Not much," Nito admitted. "The communication lines are being overhauled. Most of their personnel are occupied with that."

"In the middle of a crisis?" Havoc asked.

Nito shrugged. "Colonel Bowman at the border station thinks someone might be tapping the lines. He's ordered a lock-down on non-emergency communications while they fix things."

"Doesn't he need permission from Southern command to do that?" Ed asked.

"This town's on the edge of jurisdictions between Southern command and the border station, so either of them can authorize it. They should have informed your C.O., though." Nito said.

Ed frowned. Somebody was setting this place up as a black-out zone, but was it to cover up the incident, or was it part of it? Mustang may or may not have known something like this was going on when he sent them in. Why else would he insist Havoc come along? It would be a cold day in hell before Mustang did something just to be helpful.

"Can I talk to Colonel Bowman about this?" Ed asked.

"You can talk to him, sure, if you can get him on the radio."

"Screw that," Ed said. "I'm calling Southern."

Ed got up from his chair. Al tried to stop him, but submitted to glare power.

"Start going over the files," Ed ordered. "I'm not going that far."

"I'll come too, Chief," Havoc said.

Ed glared, but it had no effect on the older man.

"Fine," Ed declared. "Let's not take all day."

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Al shifted nervously as he paged through the files in the box. He kept his back to the wall so nothing could sneak up on him. Most of the reports were just missing people, but a few mentioned seeing strange men and women with yellow eyes and fangs. He supposed they could have been chimera. Ulchi had yellow eyes and pointed teeth, after all, and he was just a big jerk, not a demon. Ed was probably right. There was no such thing as demons.

Something moved in the boxes outside the file cage. Al started slightly and dropped his file on the floor.

"It's just mice," he said to himself.

Then the sound came again, and he felt he had to confirm that. He got to his feet and walked out of the cage. The hinge seemed especially creaky as he pushed the gate closed behind him. He walked as quietly as he could around the towers of boxes. Some of them had rotted completely through and he could see mold growing on the ration bars. He was slightly glad, at that moment, that he didn't have a sense of smell.

The sound came again, from on top of the boxes, a weight shifting. Al looked nervously at the pile. The food was probably all rotten, anyway. Even if he climbed on it, it couldn't get much more ruined. The boxes shifted and squashed inward under his weight, but they didn't fall over in an embarrassing and noisy avalanche, so he supposed he couldn't be too upset. He finally made it to the top of the pile.

"Ewwwww…" he muttered.

It wasn't mice. It was rats.

They were running around a sunken spot in the middle of the pile of boxes. They were probably just eating the moldy food. Al considered just climbing back down, but…maybe he should see what was attracting so many rats when there were boxes of food all over.

He crawled closer and a box gave way under his knee. There was a loud crunch and the rats squeaked and scattered. Al regained his balance, and when he was sure he wasn't going to sink further into the pile, he leaned forward to look.

The rats hadn't been eating from a box. There was a dead man on top of the pile, and even though the rats had been at him, Al could still see the two holes punched into the man's throat.

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Havoc wanted to make sure Ed didn't leave anything out of his report, his injuries for example, so he hung around as Ed dialed the phone, hung up, cursed, dialed again, cursed some more and slammed the receiver down on general principles.

"Couldn't get through?" Havoc asked.

Ed nodded. "Apparently the phones are out in both directions. The operator didn't know why they were out or who was in charge of fixing them. Civilian and military lines both! Damn it!"

Havoc was about to suggest they catch the next train back to Southern when Alphonse Elric came running out of the basement, screaming about vampires.

**88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888**

**Author's note: **This chapter got super long, so I divided it in two. The second part should be up in like a week.


	23. Chapter 23

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Fools and Children, Part 2**

A Private had offered to make Al a cup of tea to calm him down as the rest of the on-duty officers went downstairs to look at the corpse. Ed left his brother to make excuses as he followed the rest of the men to the basement. There was indeed a corpse on top of the ration crates, with a wound similar to Ed's. The lower-ranking officers drew straws, and then one was made to climb up there with a camera for a crime scene photo. After a few white flashes of light, the camera and the body were handed down.

"That's Richard, alright," Major Nito said. "I guess he wasn't late to work after all."

Ed glared. "How can you be so…so $#&ing glib about this? You knew him, didn't you? He was killed while you were taking a $#&ing nap!"

Nito just shrugged.

"Who's the ranking officer around here?" Ed demanded.

Nito shrugged again. "Major Laurence is, technically, but she's been calling in sick for the last few days."

Ed ground his teeth.

"All right," Ed said. "Nito, your job is to get Major Laurence here. I don't care if you have to drag her kicking and screaming!"

Ed thought the Major might argue since he and Ed were technically of equal rank and Ed wasn't exactly within his jurisdiction, but the Major just shrugged and started walking away. Ed looked around the room, picking out another Sergeant.

"Who are you?" Ed demanded, pointing.

"Sergeant Allan Brent, Sir!" the man said with a spastic salute.

"Do you know Constable Melba and Sergeant Leem, where they live and all that?" Ed asked.

"Yes sir," Brent said.

"Take…those three with you and go find them," Ed ordered, pointing out a few more soldiers who were hanging out in a bit of a daze.

"Yes sir," Brent said, and set off.

"Ok, who here is your radio and technical officer?"

Ed spent the next half hour handing out jobs in the oddly apathetic command post. He knew soldiers could get lazy when no one was enforcing discipline, (Havoc for example) but he'd never been around a group so blasé about the world falling apart around them. Maybe they were on something. Ed ordered a Private that didn't look busy enough to get one of the local doctors over to run drug tests. When everyone was suitably scurrying around, Ed got Havoc to carry the files on the case upstairs to the main offices. Al was sitting with a cup of tea in front of him and his hands in his lap. The office chair he occupied was creaking dangerously beneath him.

"Big brother, I think I know what's going on," Al said.

"Do you…do you remember Summer?" Al asked.

Ed glared at him.

"Do you remember what she said, about…about dead people getting up and walking around?"

Ed sighed. This was not the time for Al to be freaking out.

"She was making that up, Al. She's a few screws loose because she was experimented on in a lab or something."

"But this is just like what she said!" Al whispered. "These are…these are vampires!"

"Al, there are no such thing as Vampires!" Ed said.

"There are, too!"

"They're just stories! There are no Vampires, no werewolves and no evil spirits. Those are just stories! We're looking for a chimera!"

"I don't know, chief," Havoc said. "I never heard of a chimera drinking blood. Eating people, sure, but those were more interested in the meat than the gravy."

"Fine, you two go sit in a church with your garlic and I'll do all the real work."

"Summer didn't say anything about garlic," Al said.

"And who is Summer?" Havoc asked.

"A girl we met in Central during the plague." Ed said. "She was kind of superstitious."

"She hunts vampires!" Al said. "We need to get her out here now!"

Ed glared at his younger brother. "Vampires do not exist! The dead don't come back!"

"Then what the hell am I?" Al demanded.

"You were never dead!" Ed hissed.

"This is happening, Ed! Why won't you listen to me?"

"Because we're Alchemists! We deal with science and calculations. All of this can be explained without you sending everyone into a useless panic!" He lowered his voice deliberately. "There are no demons or Vampires out there, Al. There are no monsters that we didn't make."

"You don't know that," Al said.

Ed glared. "Fine. Just be quiet about the monsters for now. If we don't get anything out of the local authorities, we'll go to a haunted house and look for your Vampires."

"They don't haunt houses," said Al. "They'd be in the graveyard."

"So we'll go to the graveyard," Ed said contemptuously.

Havoc looked between them. "You aren't expecting me to go with you, right?"

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He barely made it back to the tunnels before sunrise, and then it was another half of a day through the old mines to his destination. He had to make the last part of the journey across open ground with a heavy blanket and a shipping crate over him to keep him out of the sun. Hopefully no one was around to see the crate scurry from the mouth of the mines to the farmhouse. He dropped the crate and hopped up onto the porch, kicking open the door and rushing in, patting out the bits of skin and clothes that smoldered. Their master insisted on living above ground, though she knew how hard that made it for them to come and go. He walked through the darkened house, and found her in the parlor. She had the curtains drawn, at least.

"Is there a problem, Greg?" she asked from the sofa she occupied with her high-heeled boots propped up on the coffee table.

"Yes, Master," the vampire said.

He hated bowing to a human, but didn't have many other options. Humans that could do what she did could not be ignored.

"What sort of problem?" she asked, not even bothering to look up from the book in her lap.

"There's an Alchemist in West Lodia-" he began.

"I know. I got a call telling me he was coming," she said, finally looking up.

He was starting to wish she wouldn't. Her eyes were a solid black that seemed to pierce right through his brain.

"What about this alchemist?" she prompted, as he lost his train of thought.

"He was attacked by a fledgling, and he…didn't die," he said.

"And why are you here, and not out there, killing him?" she asked.

"I couldn't get to him, master," Greg said. "He's got a…a thing guarding him. It isn't human."

"Well, that is a bit of a problem," she allowed. "Mr. Rustle said he would take care of him, and with all those calming charms in the military offices, it shouldn't be possible for someone to get worked up. What is this alchemist like?"

"He's a little brat, looks about ten years old," Greg said. "Some of the fledglings have heard of him. He's called Fullmetal, and he's a State Alchemist, but he's got a reputation for going against the military and being heroic or some shit."

She put her book down. "That sounds interesting. I think I might have to see him for myself."

"Bring him to me."

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Ed couldn't believe he let Al talk him into this. But the soldiers he'd sent out to find their missing C.O.'s had come back with shrugs and excuses, and in the case of Constable Melba, a dead body drained of blood. Ed had rattled every door in town, but no one with authority seemed to care, and the regular townspeople seemed too afraid to lend a hand. The doctor hadn't found anything in the drug tests, but he'd admitted something was wrong with the local officials besides laziness. Ed didn't know how things had quite led here, though. He blamed Al.

"This is stupid," Ed growled for the hundredth time.

Al shifted the wooden stake to his other hand. "It's exactly like Summer said. It's Vampires. You'll see, big brother."

Ed frowned. The sun had set an hour ago, and they'd been sitting by Richard the file clerk's grave since then. The doctors had done a rushed autopsy, and Richard didn't have family in town to object to the quick interment. Still, Ed couldn't help feeling awkward about rushing the dead into the ground, especially when you were just waiting for them to pop back out again.

"Some nut-job bit me," Ed said. "It means they're crazy, not that they're the walking dead. Besides, if I was bit, doesn't that mean I'll turn into a vampire?"

"Vampires are the walking dead," Al lectured. "You didn't die, so you didn't turn into one."

Ed glared. It just wasn't possible. Sure, they'd run into an alchemist who had been stealing girl's souls and using them to animate mannequins he made to look like his long-lost girlfriend, but that wasn't raising the dead, that was displacing the living. A transmutation working with the remains of the person you were trying to bring back might have a better chance of success than the raw ingredient method Ed and Al had used in their attempt, but even then you would need something of equal value to trade for the soul. He didn't believe the story Al was giving him about there being a demon instead of a soul in the body. Ed started to shiver. _Stupid blood loss.__ Stupid crazy town. Stupid Al listening to stupid Summer._

"Hey, Chief," Havoc said, pulling him out of his internal rant. "You might want to turn around and have a look at this."

The Elric brothers turned. At first, they weren't sure what he was talking about, since nothing was moving in the yellow circle of light the lantern gave off. Havoc was standing at the edge of the circle, facing out into the dark. Though they couldn't see what he was watching, they could hear muffled scrabbling of something digging in the earth. Ed walked to Havoc's side, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

A few plots over, a pale hand stuck up out of ground.

The nails were caked in dirt and the skin was unusually pale. The fingers flexed slowly as if feeling the air. A moment later, the other hand pushed through. The curled, dirty hands sank into the firmer soil at the edge of the grave and pulled. Very slowly, the rest of the arms, and then a dirty mass of hair broke the surface. Shoulders in a filthy pink dress wormed free a moment later, and finally the feet kicked free, exposing white leather shoes.

The woman wasn't gasping for air as one might expect a recently buried human being to do. Instead, she made a low snuffling sound. Her head came up slowly and bright yellow eyes peered at them through her tangled, dirty hair. Ed was surprised he could see the color in the dark.

Havoc snapped out of it first. He flicked his cigarette away.

"You alright, ma'am?" he asked, aiming his rifle at her.

She slowly pushed herself to her feet. "I'm fine, now that you're here. I was so scared," she said. "They buried me alive. Can you help me pleasssssssse?" Her voice hissed and lisped as if her teeth were too big for her mouth. She might have sounded convincingly pathetic, otherwise.

"What kind of help do you need?" Havoc asked, keep his gun steady.

"I'm hungry," she hissed.

She blurred into motion. Ed started to bring up his arms. Havoc's rifle went off right next to his ear. The woman shrieked but didn't slow down. She bowled them both to the ground, but Ed managed to get his foot under her hip and kicked her away. She rolled back to her feet in a second and leapt at them again. Ed was bringing up his arms to block, but a steel fist intercepted the woman's head before she reached them. She sprawled on the ground at Al's feet.

Ed was about to transmute some chains to tie her up, but before he could even bring his hands together, Al's other arm came down, and Ed saw the stake in his hand.

"Don't-" Ed got out.

It was too late. The sharpened bit of wood pierced the woman's back. She shrieked horribly, and for a moment Ed couldn't believe it. Al could not have done that, could he? And then the woman exploded. Ed flinched and brought up his hands, but he wasn't splattered with blood. Instead, the woman's flesh flew apart in a cloud of ash.

He coughed and spat, realizing it was the same stuff that had blown in his face the night before. Ed blinked and then looked over at Havoc. The Lieutenant had another cigarette hanging from his lips. Ed didn't know if it was a new one or if he'd picked up the one he'd dropped.

"So that's a Vampire," Havoc said.

They heard Al's armor clank as he nodded. "I told you so."

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Most of the people of West Lodia had learned to stay inside when the sun went down, so when forty men and women with pale faces and dusty clothes came walking into town from the surrounding fields, no one was there to see them, at least no one willing to risk going out to spread a warning. They met with a slightly smaller, but equally forbidding group in the center of town.

"What'd she say?" asked Tolman.

"She wants the Fullmetal brat," Greg said. "Alive or turned, but not dead. I brought help," he added, sort of nodding at the group who'd followed him.

"She thinks that shrimp will cause that much trouble?" Tolman replied as some of those gathered snorted contemptuously.

"I think he might, and I sure as Hell ain't gonna be the only one to take the fall if this goes wrong," Greg said. "Is he out of the hospital yet?"

Tolman nodded. "Left this morning, saw the mayor, tried to call for help, didn't get any."

"Where is he now?"

Tolman shrugged. "I guess we have to look."

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Edward Elric was running out of curse words.

"! Its not ing possible! $#!" he growled as they trudged back from the graveyard.

"I think we just saw that it was, Chief," Havoc said.

"No!" Ed said. "No! It must have been a mannequin and when Al disrupted the transmutation circle holding it together, it flew apart."

"What transmutation circle?" Al demanded.

"The one you stabbed!" Ed said.

"I didn't see one!" Al said.

"It must have been under her clothes," Ed stated.

"So we're going to have to strip the next one naked to stop your arguing?" Havoc asked.

Ed glared.

The town was quiet as they returned, and Ed noticed that most of the streetlights had been broken out. They had gone a few blocks in when Havoc spotted a man just standing on a corner looking around. Ed called out to the man, but he took off before they got anywhere near him. Havoc stared after the stranger. They heard footsteps echoing off the town's lifeless walls. The echoing seemed to get louder as the moments passed.

"Al, pick up your brother," Havoc ordered.

"What?" Ed demanded as Al obeyed.

"Run. Towards the military offices," Havoc said, as he lifted his rifle. "Go now."

Al took off, his older brother struggling to get loose. Ed's teeth jarred as Al's metal feet struck the cobbles. Ed twisted and managed to look around behind Al. There were people coming up the street towards them, lots of people. They didn't seem to be in a hurry, but even at full tilt, Al wasn't putting much space between them. Havoc fired.

One of the lead runners in the group stumbled, but didn't fall. Havoc fired again, this time aiming low. One of them fell this time as the shot took him in the knee, but got back up a moment later.

"Can we eat the soldier?" someone in the mob asked.

"Sure," another replied.

The front runners of the mob exploded into motion. Havoc lowered his rifle and turned to run. He managed two steps before the first one tackled him to the ground.

Ed grabbed the collar of Al's armor and pulled himself up out of his brother's grasp. He vaulted over Al's shoulder, hands coming together as the street rushed up at him. He'd meant to right himself with a handspring, but he wasn't fully recovered and ended up skidding across the cobbles, skinning his knee and the palm of his real hand as he came to a stop, sprawled. The stone under his hands began to glow.

The ground around Havoc burst upward, flinging away the men and women who were bending around the fallen soldier like starving dogs. Havoc was up and running again before Ed could even think to call out to him. Havoc had scratches all over his face and the collar of his uniform jacket was ripped, but he hadn't been bitten.

Al grabbed Ed's arm and ran again. Ed trailed behind, missing every other step and staying upright only because his brother was too tall to let a significant portion of Ed reach the ground.

"Where are we going?" Al asked.

"Military offices?" Ed suggested.

"Won't make it that far," Havoc said.

"There," Ed said.

He meant to point at a dark house ahead of them. It had thick brick walls, and it wouldn't be much of a task to seal up the doors and windows to keep the nut jobs out. Of course, it was rather hard to point when you were being dragged around like a rag-doll. Al seemed to understand, though.

Al kicked down the door of the house, pulling Ed in behind him. Havoc dove through a moment later, and Ed crawled around him to the entrance, preparing to close it up. One of the creatures had been closer to Havoc than he'd thought, though. Ed froze as the yellow-eyed, fanged man dove at him…and slammed to a stop.

Ed blinked. It looked like the man had run right into a window. The man got up, snarling, and tried to reach in and grab Ed, but the invisible wall stopped him again. More of the creatures were coming up behind the first. A few tried to reach past him into the house, but they couldn't break through the wall, either.

"Are you doing this, Al?" Ed asked.

"No, big brother," Al said. "Nobody invited them in."

"Hu?" Ed asked, staring at the creatures as they clawed the invisible wall.

"How about we close this?" Havoc interrupted, picking up the door and leaning it shut in the creatures' faces.

The room got darker for a moment, but then Havoc lit a cigarette. He'd lost his rifle somewhere, but not the important stuff.

Ed could still hear the creatures outside, but they didn't seem to deal with the real door any better than the invisible one.

"What do you mean, Al?" Ed asked.

"They can't come into your home unless you invite them," Al repeated.

"But this isn't our home," Ed started to point out, and then clamped a hand over his own mouth, hoping the creatures hadn't heard him.

"It's my home," said a reedy male voice.

The three of them turned and saw an old man in a bathrobe peering at them from a darkened hallway.

"Uh…hello," Al said.

"Sorry to bust in on you," said Havoc. "But we were about to be eaten."

"We'll fix your door," Al said.

The old man shrugged. "What do I care about a door," he said. "The World's coming to an end, anyway."

"No, its not," Ed said as he caught his breath.

"You were just out there," the old man said, walking into the room. He went to a table against the wall by the window and struck a match to light a candle. "The night is full of demons."

He raised the candle and Ed flinched. There was a Vampire right outside, pressing its face against the glass.

"But God protects us, at least," he continued.

The old man reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and pulled out a gold medallion on a chain. He held it before the creature's face and it hissed and drew back. The medallion turned in the light and Ed saw it bore the image of Leto, the Sun god. Ed glared. He'd seen that image more than enough when he and Al were dealing with the fraud priest in Leore, who was trying to get the local worshipers to rise up against the State.

"You need to get some faith, son," the old man said.

"Faith?" Ed asked. "Religion is a scam cooked up by crooks to squeeze donations out of gullible jerks. The creature must have been reacting to the metal, not the picture."

"Ed, stop being a jerk!" Al hissed.

The old man shook his head. "I'll say a prayer for you, boy. It's a good thing there's a special place in God's heart for fools and children. You're a heavy measure of both."

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Havoc sighed and shifted as he watched the door. Ed had repaired it with alchemy after he and the old man got done arguing over the merits of faith and atheism. Now Ed was lying on the floor in the corner with a blanket thrown over him. Mr. Jesumn, the old man Ed seemed so keen on insulting, had brought out the blanket and put it over the surly teenager after sleep had claimed him. Havoc supposed he couldn't blame the kid for slacking. He was probably still anemic from being fed on by one of those things.

The old man had also shared his first aid kit, so Ed and Havoc could treat their scrapes and scratches before retreating to the activities they were best suited for. Havoc picked at the bandages on his neck and face, caused by the creatures' nails as they tried to rip through his jacket. He'd thought he was at the end until Ed flung the vampires away with alchemy.

He hadn't really thought the kid would abandon him, but in a situation like that, people tend to forget about everyone but themselves. He supposed that was what Mustang had seen in the surly brat who lied all the time, argued with every order and tended to salute with his middle finger more often than with his entire hand.

Al was in the kitchen, watching the back door. Havoc could just see the armored boy's feet when he leaned back in his chair. Every half hour or so a vampire would go to one door or the other and knock. Sometimes they would ask to be invited in. No one felt tempted to oblige them.

Al had transmuted some sharpened stakes for them from the pile of firewood by the old man's hearth. Havoc wasn't sure he'd be fast enough to stab one of those things in the chest before it took him down. It was better than

nothing, but he still wished for his rifle.

He looked at his watch. It was 2 am. If Al's source was right, those things would take off at sunrise, or burn where they stood. Al was really going to have to introduce him to this Summer girl, especially since she wanted nothing to do with Colonel Mustang. Al refused to describe her looks, but he did say that she hadn't gotten along with Mustang at all. Any girl who fought monsters and told Havoc's girlfriend-stealing C.O. where to get off was ok in his book. As the night bore on, Havoc tried to picture a girl he'd never meet.

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"You failed?" she asked.

"We couldn't get into the house," Greg said.

"Then why didn't you burn it down? People tend to run outside when a building is on fire."

"I don't like fire," he muttered.

She waved her hand and he went up in a cloud of shrieking flame and ash.

"I can see why," she said.

She looked at the other vampires as they cowered. None would meet her eye. Still, she had to choose one of them to take over in West Lodia. All those fledglings couldn't be trusted to manage themselves. Sooner or later they would get it into their heads that drawing attention to themselves was **not** a good idea, and then how would she draw the Slayer out?

The powers wouldn't tell her anything when she crossed over. They had even tried to stop her, but this world had rules that let her come, and the powers couldn't get around those. She'd tried every tracking spell she knew, but something about this world stole their energy before they got more than a few miles away. And she couldn't use her other talents either, since this world barely had phones, much less computers to hack. It was a good thing she'd had the foresight to bring a few vampire minions along or she'd have been stuck wandering aimlessly.

She sighed and flung herself across the couch. The local people didn't have much faith in the government that ran their country, so word of the attacks just wasn't getting around. Everyone seemed convinced that 'Chimera' were running amok again. Maybe this little Alchemist causing trouble wasn't such a bad thing. If he got the word _Vampire_ out, Buffy would hear it, wouldn't she? No matter where she was in this world, a Slayer couldn't ignore something like that.

She frowned again. Maybe a town infested with Vampires wasn't enough of a draw. Perhaps she should move to a bigger target. It would be hard to ignore a country overrun with them. She nodded to herself. There were no powers-that-be to give Buffy visions of their arrival, but soon enough the word would get out.

"And she'll come to me and everything will be right again," she said to herself.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

**Author's Note**: This chapter divided again, but I think I can move things around enough to get us back to Central by the next chapter. And Dawn's going to get another interlude in like two chapters, so look forward to that.

Also, for the people asking me about pairings, I don't announce those. Frankly, I don't think they should be announced unless you're writing a romance story about character a and character b. I think when people get all hung up on the pairings, things get formulaic and it takes away from an evolving story. If you tell everyone in the beginning who ends up with who, you give away the ending. Also, if you announce a pairing, you end up stuck with it and if the story evolves another way people get all mad and they're like you said a and b would hook up! Why did you write about character c? Ok. I'm done with my rant now.

Don't forget to review!


	24. Chapter 24

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Chapter 24: The Long Day**

The sun came up. Havoc hadn't really expected it to, but he knew he had his pessimistic moments. Ed was still snoring on the floor. The kid still had dark circles under his eyes. Havoc got up from his chair and stretched.

"You want breakfast?" Jesumn asked.

Havoc nodded. "If you've got something to spare."

The old man set about making eggs, bacon, and toast; and Al, of course, pitched in. The smell of food brought Ed back to consciousness, and with a grudging thanks, he inhaled the contents of his plate, and then the one before Al.

"Not hungry?" Jesumn asked.

"No sir," Al said.

"Ever?" the old man pressed.

"No sir," Al said.

Ed scowled and looked like he was going to say something rude.

"So what's the plan, Chief?" Havoc asked.

"We call the bastard Colonel and tell him we need backup. And then when he gets here, we kick his ass for assigning us this mission in the first place."

"I don't think that's such a good idea, big brother," Al said.

"I'm with you on the first part, at least," Havoc said. "But the Mayor said the lines are out, and since that would be incredibly inconvenient, it's probably true."

"And the Mayor is a Vampire, too," Al added.

"How do you figure that?" Ed asked.

"You said he had no windows in his office," Havoc said.

"He didn't have fangs or anything," Ed said. "And he didn't…try to bite me or anything."

"And if you went in there, and didn't come out, it wouldn't be hard to figure out something was wrong," Havoc said. "He's playing this smart."

"So any of them could be vampires?" Ed asked.

"Not if we've seen them in the sun," Al said. "They can't stand sunlight and they have no reflection. We can't trust anyone without checking that first."

"So what? We go to every house and make everyone come outside?" Ed asked. "We can't even get them to talk to us. I say we get our butts out of here, get to the nearest working phone and make this somebody else's problem. You said Summer wants to fight these things," Ed finished, pointing his fork at Al.

"I never said we shouldn't help her," Al said. "Mr. Havoc should get some sleep, and we'll go stake the Mayor, and then we can go look in all the houses and get them while they're hiding from the sun!"

Al finished, punching one gauntlet into the other.

Ed frowned. Al was never this aggressive unless kittens were on the line. He was the one who always wanted them to bring a serial-killer milk and cookies and try to talk out their issues. Al could probably tell what Ed was thinking from the look on his face, but he asked anyway.

"Why do you want to fight so bad?" Ed asked.

"You didn't see what you looked like when Havoc and I came back for you. You looked dead and they meant to kill you and they didn't care. They're real evil, big brother. They aren't just people making the wrong choice. For them it isn't a choice. They're just evil."

Ed frowned harder. "We'll try to call for help and go from there," Ed said.

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Ed growled and slammed the headset down. He finally managed to get through on the radio, but the operator had declared that Ed's codes were expired and refused to pass his report along. It was more than a day's walk to the next town, and the next scheduled train wasn't due in for two days, and that one was heading the wrong way. Ed supposed they could head toward the border station, get on the Central track and take the long way around. They had to warn Central, anyway. If they missed that one, there was a train heading for Eastern in four days. Either way, it would be half a week before they could even call for help, much less expect its arrival.

And that assumed the trains were still running.

Ed frowned as he changed the frequencies and listened for other voices on the air. He found a scratchy station playing Creatian music, but all broadcasts from Amestris were silent. He hoped that just meant the local boosting towers were down. He didn't really know that much about radios. For a moment, he wished the Colonel had sent Sergeant Fuery, communications expert, with them. And then he pictured the sergeant, who was barely larger than Ed himself, trying to stake a vampire. He shook his head.

"No luck, Chief?" Havoc asked as Ed stomped down the stairs.

"Radio works, but they won't pass the message on," Ed said. "I don't know what that means."

Ed looked over the sluggishly moving soldiers in their blue uniforms. They hadn't reacted much when Ed had announced they'd been attacked by vampires the night before. Major Nito had asked Ed when his last psych evaluation was. Maybe seeing one would make them believe, or at least snap them out of this.

"Alright, everybody! Field trip!" Ed bellowed.

It took some poking and prodding to get them all outside, and even then, herding them across the street to the mayor's office was a bit of a task. A few civilians slowed their bowed-head hurry through town to watch them go.

"I'm not sure I understand what you want, Sir," Nito said, as Ed pushed him through the doors.

"Witnesses," Ed said.

"For what?" asked one of the soldiers.

"We're making a skylight in the mayor's office," Ed said.

"Why do you need a witness for that?" another asked.

"You'll see," Havoc assured them.

The Mayor's secretary wasn't at her desk, and there were papers scattered around the floor. Ed circled around it. He didn't see a body, but there was a brownish stain on the back of the chair that might've been blood.

Ed considered kicking the doors open, but as he wasn't feeling that well, he waved Al forward. Delegating tasks was slightly less embarrassing than bouncing off the door and falling on his ass.

The Mayor was sitting behind his desk, looking calm, though a seven-foot-tall guy in armor had just burst into his office, followed by half-a-dozen soldiers.

"And to what do I owe this visit?" Mayor Rustle asked.

"I thought your office could use some redecorating," Ed announced. "It's too dark in here."

Ed had expected some kind of reaction--maybe the man would sprout fangs and charge them, or possibly he'd try to escape through a secret passage in the wall. The Mayor reaching under his desk and pulling out a machine gun wasn't one of them. Ed almost sighed as he dropped to the floor and transmuted a wall to shield them from the hail of bullets. Maybe he should have been expecting it. The same thing had happened in Leore.

As those with flesh and blood were hitting the deck, Alphonse Elric went for the curtains. He grabbed the heavy velvet fabric and tore it from the hanger with a dramatic flourish. The effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that the window had been bricked up from the outside.

PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!

Ed shifted slightly as bullets ricocheted off his brother's metal body and struck the carpet by his head. Unperturbed by the Vampire-mayor's shooting spree, Al took chalk from his belt, and drew out a transmutation circle on the bricks. He pressed his hands to it. The mayor shrieked.

Ed blinked at the sudden light in the room. After a long moment of silence, he peeked up over the barrier he'd created. The office was riddled with bullet holes, and smoke rose from the gun abandoned on the floor, but there was no pile of ashes to indicate the mayor had…combusted.

"Did you get him?" Ed asked.

"No," Al said. "He's over there."

Ed looked where his brother was pointing and saw the man crouched in the darkest corner of the room, half hidden between two bookcases. If Al made the window just a little wider, the light would shine right on him.

"Please stop! You'll kill me!" the mayor said.

Ed wasn't exactly moved by the words of the creature that had just tried to waste them with a machine gun. He was a bit surprised to see the Mayor still looked normal.

"You're already dead!" Al protested.

"Who are you to talk!" he demanded. "There's nobody in the armor! Get him!" he ordered the gathered soldiers. "He's not human either."

"He's plenty human," Havoc said. "He's not eating people or shooting people," he added.

"You can't do this. You don't have the authority. I have the right to a trial!" the mayor declared.

"Where's your secretary?" Ed asked.

The vampire's mouth worked for a second. "She's…she isn't…she's not important. I can get you money!"

Al knocked out the rest of the window.

The light washed over him.

Ed expected it to be quicker than it was. The mayor's whole body caught fire and he let out a horrible shriek. His face changed behind the flames. Fangs grew from his mouth and his eyes turned yellow. He took a step towards them, his hands outstretched, begging or trying to claw them. Ed couldn't tell. And then there was just a pile of ashes on the ground and a few embers drifting in the air.

Ed turned to look at the soldiers of West Lodia. Some of them hadn't even climbed back to their feet yet.

"We've got nine hours until sunset," Ed said. "We…we need to tell everybody in town. No, not just tell them. We have to make everybody come outside, stand in the sun. Nito, radio Colonel Bowman and tell him we put the town under martial law."

"He's not going to like that. He didn't even believe there were chimeras and they're real! Not like…not like…" he trailed off, waving at the pile of ashes on the carpet.

"Well, either way he'll have to come out here to see what's going on," Ed said. "And hey, if you do get fired, then none of this is your problem anymore."

Nito did not look particularly relieved.

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Ed watched the crowd as he approached the stage. He saw a lot of them were pointing at the rules they'd posted around the town square, and passed out to every house on flyers along with the meeting time. Nito had printed them up using the draft-press they kept in the military office. He'd made some comment about how it hadn't been used since the war in Ishbal. Ed looked at 'the rules' again as the milling people turned their attention on him.

**Cannibalistic Chimera / Vampire Safety Protocols**

**1) ****Stay in your homes after dark**

**2) ****Do not invite anyone into your home after dark**

**3) ****If you are attacked, fight back either by driving a wooden stake through the vampire's heart, or by chopping off its head.**

**4) ****Daily "Sun checks" are now mandatory. Every person in the town must be witnessed standing in direct sunlight by at least three non-related persons, every day.**

**Notable Features of Cannibalistic Chimera / Vampires**

**1) ****Combusts in Sunlight**

**2) ****No reflection**

**3) ****Yellow eyes, fangs, and distorted facial features when about to feed**

**4) ****Drinks blood**

**5) ****Remarkably strong and fast**

**6) ****May resemble recently deceased friends or family members **

Ed turned at the podium and climbed up on the step Al had made for him, so he could be seen over the top of it.

"Can everyone hear me?" Ed asked. They didn't have the means to make a microphone or bullhorn, but Havoc had made some snide comment about him not really needing one.

There were a few nods and a lot of muttering.

"We can hear you!" called a man in the crowd. "Only problem is you're talking crazy!"

"Wish I was," Ed said. "But unless you're particularly dumb, I'm sure you noticed all the people disappearing, the corpses that have been turning up with no blood, and the freaks with fangs trying to get into your houses at night!"

A few people looked at him like he was crazy, but when they looked around and saw their neighbors nodding, they started nodding, too.

"You really think these things are Vampires?" a woman called.

"We haven't got anything better to call them," Ed said.

"What are you going to do about them?" the heckler demanded.

"Me?" Ed asked. "Not much. This isn't my town."

The crowd started to look a little pissed.

"All I know how to do is kill them," Ed said. "You all are going to have to find them. We need to know which houses in you neighborhoods are abandoned, which buildings have basements and cellars where they could be hiding, which of your neighbors have sprouted fangs…stuff like that."

The crowd started murmuring.

"This is your job!" the heckler shouted. "Why should we get involved? This is what you get paid for."

"Well, I guess we could check all the houses on our own," Ed said. "That would only take about a month. I'm sure at least three of you will still be alive a month from now."

"My neighbor's a Vampire!" a woman shouted.

"So's mine!" shouted a man. "I wouldn't let him in my house and he ate my cat!"

"I'll handle that one," Al growled.

Ed nodded as people rushed forward to give them information.

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Ed kept his eyes open, but only with great effort. This was the fifteenth basement they'd cleared since his search party was assembled at noon. They'd worked out most of the kinks in the procedure so far. The three civilians who were assisting Ed would hold a couple of mirrors to reflect sunlight into whatever dark room he was checking, and Ed would stake the vampires, or in one case a coat rack, that jumped out when discovered. He'd found three vampires so far in other buildings. This next house seemed more likely than the others to be hiding one.

Ed did a quick check of the upper floors, but all the broken shutters left those rooms filled with sunlight. Even the closets were hanging open and empty, but Ed saw footprints in the dust on the basement steps. The civilians stopped at the top of the steps, tilting the mirror, sending sunlight over one side and then the other, nothing moved, shrieked or burst into flame. Ed walked forward slowly. He felt horribly jumpy without Al there to watch his back, but as the only two alchemists in the town, it just didn't make sense to keep them in the same search-and-burn party.

"Anything?" asked Sander, (the only one whose name Ed could remember, because he complained so much), as he tilted the mirror so light danced over the walls in crazy patterns.

All the shadows jumped. Unlike the upper floors, the basement was filled with junk.

"Not yet," Ed growled. "Keep it steady!"

"Sorry!"

Ed slowly circled each pile of boxes and each tower of crates. It seemed this place was freak free.

"Unless they're hiding inside the boxes," he mumbled to himself. "Crap."

Now that he had thought of it, he'd have to check, and he suddenly recalled several other large crates in the other buildings that he hadn't thought to check.

"Crap!" he growled again, as he shoved over a pile, sending rusted tilling equipment across the floor. It took him five more minutes to tip all the other boxes. All he found was more useless farm junk and dead mice. When the last pile was tipped, and the entire floor between Ed and the stairs was covered with junk, he sighed.

"We're gonna have to go back and check the other buildings again," Ed called as he climbed and stumbled over the clutter. "I forgot to check in the boxes."

"You sure we got time?" Sander asked.

"We'll have to make time!" Ed said.

"Alright! Hurry up then!" Sander called.

"Hurry up?" Ed muttered under his breath. "I'm the one doing all the work to begin with!"

He stomped as he approached the stairs, growling to himself. Perhaps if he hadn't been having a temper tantrum, he would have noticed the hollow knock of his automail against the wooden floor. His brain was just beginning to register that that sound meant there was a significant space beneath him when a latch clicked, and he dropped into the darkness.

They must have expected the fall to stun him. The first one didn't even try to knock the stake out of his hand. He just dove at Ed, and exploded in a cloud of ash a second later. The only downside to that, was the stake exploded with him.

Ed started to get up, but an arm slammed down on the crook of his neck and he hit the floor. A knee came down on his lower back and a clawed hand dug into his scalp, fingers clenching his hair. The Vampire wrenched Ed's head backwards. Ed went limp.

Apparently the Vampire wasn't expecting his victim to be just short of a contortionist. The Vampire kept pulling and Ed kept bending, until suddenly they were looking at each other upside-down. Ed punched the Vampire in the face. Undead or not, an automail fist knocking out your front teeth is a bit stunning. The Vampire let go of his hair, and Ed tried to twist out of under him, but he just wasn't strong enough.

"Fine!" Ed growled.

He clapped his hands together, and in a flash of alchemic light, saw three more pairs of yellow eyes reflecting back at him. Then they all blinked and drew back as the ground around Ed burst upwards, forming spikes and impaling the Vampire that had been holding Ed down. The spikes weren't wood, though, so instead of bursting into a cloud of ash, the creature shrieked and flailed. A lucky kick caught Ed in the side as he started to stand, and he fell again, turning the motion into a roll as another Vampire snatched at him from the dark.

"Elric?" Sander called.

"Get the mirrors!" Ed called, as he lashed out blindly with his automail foot. "I need light down here!"

"Right!" Sander called.

One of the Vampires caught Ed's automail arm.

"Arrrrrrrh!" Ed growled.

He punched the Vampire in the face half a dozen times with his flesh-and-blood hand, hissing as much as the creature was, as he split his knuckles. Something snapped. Ed wasn't sure if it was one of his fingers or the Vampire's nose, but it let go. Ed's eyes were starting to adjust to the dark. He could see now that he was in some sort of earth-walled subbasement. There were broken vials and rusted o-rings on a table behind a couple of the creatures. Apparently the previous owner of the house had been cooking up some contraband under his house. Ed grinned slightly. The table was wood.

He charged toward it. A Vampire tried to tackle him from the side, but Ed ducked under the lunge and he spun around to slam his foot into another Vampire's face. Ed clapped his hands together and slammed them down on the table. The Alchemic glow ruined his night vision again, but he was now armed with a wooden spear, sharpened at both ends.

Stabbing at sounds wasn't the smartest way to fight, but there weren't many other options. There was a rustle from the left and he lunged at it. A Vampire shrieked and the spear jerked in his hand, but whatever part of the creature he'd hit must not have been the heart, because it kept flailing around. Ed pulled back and stabbed again. There was another shriek, and Ed and the Vampire both started cursing.

"Grab him, you bastards!" the stabbed Vampire shouted as Ed missed the heart again.

Something came at him from the side and Ed stumbled away, trying to both balance and keep his grip on the weapon. A hand brushed past his arm.

"Sander! Where's the light!?" Ed bellowed.

"One second!" the other man said.

Ed stabbed again and this time a cloud of ash told him he'd actually hit his target. The spear started to dissolve as well, but he snapped the shaft before the reaction got more than a quarter of the way up it.

_Two left_, he thought.

Feet charged towards him and he lashed out with the spear, but the Vampire caught his wrist and tried to twist the spear out his hand. Ed kneed him in the gut, doing his best to block the blows the Vampire was raining down on him as they fought for the weapon. In the struggle, he forgot about the 4th pair of eyes he'd seen.

He remembered them immediately when arms caught him around the waist and lifted him off his feet. Ed let go of the spear and clapped his hands together, intending to make his arm into a blade, but the Vampire that had taken the spear punched him in the gut and Ed's focus left his mind as the air left his lungs and his lunch left his stomach.

"Eww!" complained the one who'd punched him, as splatter hit his feet.

"Just kill him!" said the one holding him.

"This is the one she wanted," the puncher said.

The revealing argument might have continued had Sander not finally come through with the mirror. The Vampire holding Ed shouted and dropped him as a reflected beam of sunlight scorched his back and neck. Apparently it was too diffuse to kill him, but Ed used the moment of distraction to finish transmuting his arm. He hacked the blade through the puncher's neck and snatched the spear out of his dissolving hand, and then whirled, slamming the spear through the chest of the one who had grabbed him.

Still hunched and hobbling slightly, Ed finished off the Vampire still stuck on the spikes.

"Got 'em yet?" Sanders called.

"What the hell took you so long?" Ed demanded, instead of answering.

"That mirror was heavy," Sander complained.

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Ed lay back in the chair in Mr. Jesumn's living room. He'd refused dinner on account of the punch he had taken earlier leaving him queasy. Havoc was stretched out on the couch a few feet away. Jesumn had agreed to let them stay again, as the military offices were obviously not vampire-proof. Al was on guard duty, but he didn't really think he was doing enough, just sitting there.

Everyone had been told to stay inside. The people who had come to the meeting at noon had agreed to spread the word to the houses of those who hadn't shown up. Who would go out after dark if they knew there were monsters waiting to eat them, anyway? Still, Al thought he'd heard someone scream not twenty minutes ago, not to mention he'd seen more than one vampire wander by the house since sunset.

"Brother, I'm going to take a walk," Al announced.

"You sure?" Ed asked.

They both knew the vampires couldn't really hurt Al, but Ed worried a lot.

"We're going on to the border station the day after tomorrow if the train comes," Al said. "I want to get rid of as many of them as possible before we have to leave."

"But are you sure?" Ed asked.

"Yes, big brother. I'll be fine. It's not like I need sleep, anyway."

"Just be careful," Ed said. "With all the weird stuff going on, it might be worse than vampires out there."

Al nodded in acknowledgement, but left anyway.

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She watched the empty suit of armor as it stalked the streets. It rattled a bit when it walked, which should have given her minions enough warning to flee, but they weren't quick on the uptake.

The armored Elric was talented at waiting. She watched him duck into a doorway with a stake in his hand. He went still, the kind of still no living thing with a heart could pull off. When a Vampire walked by, the armor was more than fast enough to dust him. He was a near-perfect ambush predator. She wondered how he had been made.

At first she though he was a Golem the Fullmetal alchemist had created as a bodyguard, but she'd watched him argue with Fullmetal and the smoking soldier, and no Golem could have done that, not in her world, at least. And she doubted anyone would purposely give such a menacing creature a child's voice. Then again, some people did have a weird sense of humor.

After the eighth Vampire was staked, she decided to make herself known. She hurried out of the alley she'd been hiding in and strolled up the sidewalk as if she owned the place, confident the armor would notice her. He whirled with a soft clank; he had a small mirror in his hand and she saw him check her reflection in it even as he spoke.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name's Willow," she said.

"Ma'am, you shouldn't be out here!" the armored boy scolded. "It's dangerous."

"I haven't seen any of these monsters everyone's been talking about," Willow said.

"Then you've been very lucky, ma'am," the armored boy said. "I'll walk you home, or wherever you're going, but you shouldn't be out alone. Do you even have a stake with you? Didn't you get a copy of the rules and stuff? They said they got to every house."

"My farm's a couple miles outside of town," Willow said. "I came in to get some supplies today and saw all this going on. I was going to walk back to my farm. It only takes about an hour."

"You'll never make it!" the armored boy insisted. "You should stay in a hotel or with a friend or something."

"I guess I'll head for the hotel."

The boy nodded and led the way. Willow followed behind him, watching him walk. A Vampire came around the corner, and froze at the sight of them. The armored boy pulled a stake. The Vampire turned and ran. Willow didn't think the boy noticed the Vampire was looking at her, rather than him.

"Do you really work for the State?" she asked.

"I don't," the boy said, rather nervously. "But my brother does; he's a State Alchemist. I'm just giving him a hand."

"So the State knew about these things and didn't bother to tell anyone?" she asked.

"No, not really," said the boy. "We came out here because somebody reported chimera attacks, but I guess they were Vampires. Well, maybe there were chimera too, but maybe the Vampires ate them. I don't know. We used to think Vampires were just stories, but seeing them…you know…well, we're still picking out what's real and what's just another story…but the sunlight and stakes part has proved true, and I guess for now that's enough to get by."

Willow nodded.

"So are you and your brother just going to stay here until you've gotten rid of them all?"

"I don't think we'd be able to get all of them, ma'am. We're going to get help and spread the warning. I think we'll be able to get things under control eventually, though. It can't have spread that far. I mean, we just came from Eastern less than a week ago and everything was fine there."

"Eastern is fine?" she asked. "Maybe I should head that way."

"Maybe, ma'am," the boy said agreeably. "But we don't know if it's safe to take the trains yet."

They got to the hotel, and the desk clerk, who stood before a mirror that covered the entire wall, checked her in and handed her a set of keys. Willow noted the clerk had a crossbow with a wooden bolt loaded and wound. These people caught on faster than anyone in Sunnydale ever did. She waved to the armored boy as he set out into the night again. She almost felt bad about having to destroy them all.

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**The next day…**

It was just before sundown, but Ed had gotten together a torch-bearing mob, to make sure the Vampires didn't get any ideas. The engineer wasn't happy about the extended stop in West Lodia, and when they explained about the Vampires, he looked even less enthusiastic. Only a few of the townspeople wanted to get on the train with them. The shelter-in-your-home rule seemed to be the best protection they had.

"Are you sure Al's enough of a guard?" Havoc asked, looking over at the armored boy, who carried the Elrics' battered suitcase.

"He always has been," Ed said. "You're the one I'm worried about."

Havoc snorted. "Yeah, right. I needed to get back to Eastern, anyway. They don't sell my brand out here," he said, looking forlornly at the crumpled cigarette package in his hand.

Havoc would be taking the train back to Eastern, if it ever arrived. Nito and the rest would wait for Colonel Bowman's arrival, hopefully in daylight. Going off in opposite directions seeking help seemed a little overdramatic to Ed, but they didn't have any better ideas. And Ed didn't want to switch directions with Havoc, anyway. He did not look forward to explaining Vampires to the bastard Colonel. Somehow, he'd make it all Ed's fault, he just knew it.

"Good luck," Ed said.

"Back at ya, chief," the soldier said.

Ed nodded and climbed aboard. Once Al was inside as well, they pulled the door closed and sealed it with alchemy. They'd already transmuted the rest of the passenger cars, shrinking the window so no one could crawl through, sealing the other doors, and (much to Ed's disgust) putting the image of the sun god on assorted panels along the side of the train. Ed heard Havoc calling out to the engineer, and the brakes were released. The train gained speed slowly, but the small town was gone from sight almost instantly.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Al asked.

"Don't ask dumb questions like that," Ed said. "He'll be fine. We're the ones in trouble. You think the next town's gonna believe us when we tell them Vampires are out to get them?"

"I guess," Al said. "But I have a bad feeling."

"Stop saying that!"

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**Author's notes**: Sorry this took so long! My new job takes up so much time, and it involves maggots. Sigh!

Next chapter: Dawn in Dublith

Please remember to review.


	25. Interlude 2

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Interlude 2: The Forests of Dublith**

**Day 25 in ****New World**

I haven't written for a while, because things have been busy and I've been lazy. Today's different, though. Izumi picked a fight with me again today. I couldn't remember what I'd read in that stupid alchemy book she'd handed me. I'd only skimmed it, so that wasn't a big surprise. I don't get why she won't listen when I tell her Alchemy and my Magic are not the same thing.

I tried that basic transmutation thing fifty million times. All I got was burns on my hands. Izumi says it's because I'm not focused enough, but I'm like the most focused person ever. Jimmy is the one with no focus and he does just fine. I think I need to focus less.

**Day 26 in ****New World**

I took a day off. I asked Jimmy if he wanted to come with me, so of course he didn't want to go, which was the idea. Izumi said I wouldn't be able to get anywhere since I couldn't afford the train, so of course I had to prove her wrong and went walking in a random direction until my blisters had blisters and I had to stop. I did find a good place to collapse. There was a little creek with fish in it, and it sort of reminded me of the fountain in the Sunnydale mall, so I decided to soak my feet and chill. When I closed my eyes I could totally picture the mall around me, with escalators and outlet stores and my mom's credit card, and that stand that sells the cinnamon and sugar soft pretzels with the icing dip…

I forgot to pack food when I left Izumi's too, of course.

Anyway, I was sitting there thinking about all the wonderfully processed food I wished they had in this world when my Sunnydale sense went off like one million percent. So I was looking around, but trying to look like I wasn't looking, while also appearing large and threatening, when a sheepdog with spines comes out of the bushes across the creek from me. And I was starting to think it was just some weird local variety of dog, but then a German Shepherd with bird claws instead of paws walked out right next to the first freaky dog, and they were both looking right at me.

So in the spirit of inter-species communication, I said "Hey."

And then the sheepdog says "Hey" back. Well, it was kind of hard to understand him, but I could tell he was trying to talk.

So then I'm like "What's up?"

And the sheepdog is like, "Not much. Who are you?"

"I'm Dawn," I said.

"I'm Lurk," said the sheepdog, "This is James, and this is Samry," he said, nodding to the German Shepherd and then to something that looked like a half-armadillo, half-bear that had just come out of some kind of burrow.

"Nice to meet you," I said.

We looked at each other for a while, and I decided I should probably get my feet out of the water and put my shoes back on, in case I had to run somewhere. They just watched me, and I was getting a little creeped out, so I tried to make conversation.

"Are you all, like, cursed or something?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," burbled James, the dog with the bird feet. "Can you bring us a couple of bottles of whisky and a coupla' packs of smokes? That might…uh…break the curse."

I rolled my eyes. "If you need somebody to make a beer run, you like, could totally have asked."

"Really?" asked Lurk.

And I was like, "Yeah, sure. Sucks to be cursed, or whatever."

"Chimera," barked Samry, the armadillo-bear.

And I did remember that word from the books Izumi made me read. This world had an ancient Greece just like my world did, and they had the same mythical monsters. Their alchemists had recycled the name for man-made monsters, people or animals squashed together into one slightly larger and much more miserable creature.

"Oh," I said.

"You seem to be taking this…pretty well," Lurk choked out.

I shrugged. "Where I come from, this is pretty run of the mill."

"Where the hell do you come from?"

"Exactly," I said.

(And I actually said it then, too. I think that was my best one-liner ever. Usually I just think of cool responses like an hour after the conversation is over and then mentally edit them back in to make myself seem cooler, but this time I actually said it and I managed to do an eyebrow thing, too. All the practice is paying off.)

Anyway, we talked for a while, though the best of them still sounded like he was trying to converse in the middle of a killer coughing fit. They had a pretty good sob story, and it was kind of Initiative-esque. Apparently they had all escaped from a lab and were on the run from the government. They'd been busted out by some mystery woman called the Scrap Demon, but as I tried to get more information on her, they got more and more vague. When I finally up and asked if the Scrap Demon was a short bossy blond with green eyes, they clammed up completely.

I guess they wanted liquor first, so I told them I'd come back with it when I could.

**Day 27**

Couldn't get away today. Had to practice Alchemy and fighting. Izumi is the world's biggest bitch!

**Day 28**

Izumi was yelling at me for slacking and then she started throwing up blood. I made Jimmy run and get Sig, and the kid actually did what he was told, for once. The doctor came and saw her. Apparently she's had…whatever she has for a while. Maybe that's why she's so bitchy all the time. Only, now I feel bad for calling her bitchy.

Sig wouldn't say what was wrong with her, but…I don't know. Do people with cancer throw up blood? I went in to talk to her later, after she ordered Sig to go back to work so they wouldn't go broke and starve, (and she and Sig had a totally gag moment of "no, I love you more" which I totally could not picture people like them having).

Anyway, I went in to ask her, and she was like "Why do you care what's wrong with me?"

And I was like, "Well, if it's catching I don't want to hang around."

And she stares at me for like five whole minutes. And then she says, "What do you think I have?"

And I hadn't really meant to say anything, but it just sort of came out. "Cancer."

She says, "Cancer."

Only she doesn't have a tone or anything, so I can't tell if that's a yes or a no. So I'm like "Yeah, Cancer. My mom had the same thing," and I hadn't really meant to tell her that, but then she just kept staring at me and more words just kept coming out, but I guess I got into a rant and I don't remember most of what I said, but I know I ended with "and then the doctors let you out of the hospital and say everything's fine but then one of your daughters gets home and finds you dead on the couch in the living room, and she goes to school to tell her sister…and…"

And then I trailed off and sort of ran away.

**Day 29**

I know I'm the most horrible person for leaving Izumi by herself, but she didn't ask me to stay. She gets mad whenever anyone besides Sig tries to be nice to her, anyway.

I liberated a couple of bottles of gin and a couple of tins of tobacco from Dublith's market, and spent most of the morning walking back to the chimera creek. There were a few more of them hanging out there today, and I was introduced to Liddia, a cheetah with feathers an almost-human face, and Shell, who looked kind of like a dinosaur.

I spent most of the day there fishing for information on the girl that rescued them from the lab. I had to roll and hold cigarettes for a couple of them, since they didn't have thumbs anymore. We nearly started a forest fire that way.

I was getting kind of frustrated, so I finally dropped the name Slayer. And I could tell by the way they were looking at each other that they had totally heard of her, but they didn't say anything, even after they'd gone through all the booze I'd stolen. Chimera can really hold their liquor. Anyway, I was getting ready to head back to town when a couple of guys came walking out of the woods.

They were both kind of freaky-looking. One had cat ears and claws, and the other was seven feet tall with a scaly lizard face. It took me a second to remember where I'd seen them before; that dive bar, the Devil's Nest. And one of them just had to be the goon I'd kicked in the nuts. And my bad luck, he recognized me right off. Well, I'm assuming he did, because he pointed at me, yelled "You!" and charged.

I waited until the last second, sidestepped, and kicked him in the back of the knee as he passed me. I pulled a big knife I'd borrowed from Izumi's butcher shop and I had it against his throat the second he hit the ground. I was about to say something cool and threatening, when Lurk chomped down on my shirt and pulled me off the lizard man. And then more of the chimera were jumping in between me and the guys from the bar. And they were all yelling and barking and howling at each other, it was like totally not conducive to hiding from an evil government agency.

By the time everybody had shut up and calmed down, it had gotten pretty dark, and I know Izumi was going to throw a fit if I ever got back to her place.

"Alright," the cat-guy said. "Who is she?"

"She's Dawn," James said.

"And what are you letting her snoop around for?" Cat-guy asked.

"She's not doing anything," Samry said.

"She asked about the Slayer," Liddia said.

I glared at her. I glared at all of them, except for Lurk, who was still behind me with his teeth sunk into my shirt so I couldn't run off.

"People who talk about the Slayer have to see the Boss," the Cat-guy said.

And James is like "She's just a kid."

"She won't get hurt if she comes quietly," says Cat-guy.

And Ulchi is all "Not too hurt, any way."

So I'm like, "Well I guess I could come quietly, but hey! Kicking ass is so much more my thing."

They all stopped and stared when I said that.

And then the lizard guy is like, "Damn, sounds just like her."

"Like who?" I demanded.

Of course they didn't answer.

**Day 30 (this went down after ****midnight****, so I'm counting it as the next day)**

So I was being totally immature, but when you're being kidnapped, you get to act like a kid, right? So I was sitting in a booth in the Devil's Nest with my arms crossed, glaring at the guy across from me. He sort of reminded me of Spike with his "I'm so cool and I know it" attitude. It was the same guy I'd seen a month ago when I came in here with Jimmy. And I was sort of wishing Jimmy was still with me, cause my ability to float a plate or a pencil were feeling woefully inadequate now.

And he's like "Didn't think I'd see you again, Doll. What's your name?"

And I'm like "Well it sure as shit ain't Doll."

And he just smirks. "I don't know what else to call you."

"I'm Dawn."

He raised an eyebrow when I said that.

"I'm Greed," he said. And then he's like "I hear you're looking for the Slayer."

And I'm like "Maybe."

"Maybe?" he asks.

And I'm like "Maybe it's none of your business."

He just smirks some more. "The Slayer is my business. She owes me one, well…sort of."

And I'm like "Well she's about to owe me one, so where is she?"

He's all "I don't know if I should tell you. You could be anybody. She never mentioned anyone named Dawn to me."

"Yeah, I'm sure she told you every detail of her life."

"She told me enough to get me interested. So tell me, Dawn, are you the one that raised her?"

And I was a little bit shook up by that, since it seemed like he really did know her if he knew that and it also meant that she really had come back here, but if it was obvious she was raised, and if someone like this knew, what did that mean?

So finally I say "I'm not the one that raised her. I'm the one that's trying to warn her that the one that raised her has flipped out utterly and she better watch her ass."

"So she has an alchemist after her?" he asked.

"No, a witch."

And he just sits back in his chair like he doesn't believe a word I'm saying. And for a moment I was really tempted to make something float, but as that got me into the awkward, (but rent free), situation I was currently in with Izumi, I kept my levitations to myself.

"So are you gonna tell me where the Slayer is or not?" I asked.

And he's all. "Well I think I'm just going to keep you here, and tell her she ought to come by and see you. She doesn't visit me as often as I'd like."

"Someone's avoiding you? What an astounding surprise," I said. "And I'm not gonna wait in some dive bar on the off chance she'll show."

"You don't have much of a choice," he said, grinning.

And so I roll my eyes. "You know there are people going to come looking for me if you try to keep me here. It's not like your goons don't stand out, and I made a total scene when they dragged me in."

"You think someone's coming to rescue you?" he asked.

"Rescue's putting too fine a point on it, but yeah, somebody'll come looking for me. And they're a real bad-ass too!"

I was sort of hopping Izumi would bust in a wall right then, or something equally dramatic, but I was just left waiting in the booth for two more hours while Greed wandered around the bar drinking and talking to the hookers. Finally, at like three in the morning, a scuffle starts at the entrance, and then two goons walk in on either side of Jimmy.

"Mommy says you're in trouble and she's going to beat your butt!" Jimmy declared as he was manhandled into the booth next to me.

That wasn't the rescue I was expecting.

Greed walked back over to us. He was looking at Jimmy really intently as he sat down, and I guess he noticed how much they looked alike.

"Is this the bad-ass?" he asked.

"No," I said. "This is the dumb-ass. Say 'hi,' Jimmy."

And Jimmy's all "No, Stupid!"

"You want to answer some questions for me, Jimmy?" Greed asked.

"NO!" I said. "He doesn't."

"I want candy!" Jimmy said.

"I'm sure we can arrange something," Greed said. "Now tell me, who is she?"

And he pointed at me. Pointing is so rude.

"She's Dawn Summers!" Jimmy declared.

I repressed the urge to slap him.

"Summers?" Greed asked.

"Yeah!" Jimmy said. "Gimme' candy!"

"Where'd she come from?" Greed asked.

"Out of the dark, same as me!" Jimmy said. "But she's full of green light when she's inside out. Now gimme' candy!"

Greed went through his pockets, pulled out a fistful of junk, and dropped it on the table. There were a couple of chunks of taffy in wax paper, some coins, and some red rocks that were giving off bad vibes.

"What do you want, kid?" Greed asked, and he was watching Jimmy really intently as the kid looked at the pile of prizes.

"Candy!" Jimmy yelled, even though Greed was like two feet away from him.

Jimmy grabbed up the taffy and I don't know why, but I was totally relieved. Greed looked at the coins and the red stones. He swept most of them off the table into his hand and put them back in his pocket. There were a couple of stones left. Greed picked one up and popped it into his mouth. He flicked the other one across the table at me.

"I don't want that!" I said.

I had meant to just flick it back at him, but the second my finger touched it, there was this flash of red light and a screaming sound. And then all these--I guess the best way to describe them is ghosts- -came flying out of it across the bar. There must've been twenty people in that thing, all of them looking scared. As they got farther away from where the stone was, they faded away until they were just red haze passing through the walls.

"That was odd," Greed said. "What the hell are you?"

"I'm Dawn," was all I could say as the last of the ghosts went through the wall. It was a girl, maybe the same age as me. I think she smiled.

"Well, Dawn," Greed said. "Maybe you're a little too much trouble to keep around here, after all. Not that I won't be keeping an eye on you. But I'll let you go for now with a warning. There's an alchemist around here, a Hag named Dante. If she learns you can do that, you won't be around for long."

The name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. So I just shrugged.

He let me and Jimmy go, and I'm pretty sure he tailed us back to Izumi's, but I was too sick of it to care. She yelled at me for staying out late, and keeping Jimmy out late, and said we were going somewhere the next day, so I should sleep while I had the chance.

**Day 30 (continued)**

The Old lady Izumi wanted me to see was the same one Greed had warned me about; Dante. I should have known some evil conspiracy was going on. I don't know if Izumi knows what's up, but she was going to bring Jimmy along, and I didn't think that would be such a good idea, so I convinced him not to come.

(Well, actually I challenged him to a game of hide and seek right before we were about to leave, and then didn't look for him.)

So me and Izumi set out for Dante's mansion. It was way out in the woods and it was utterly creepy. I'm also pretty sure somebody was following us the whole way there, though I didn't see anyone.

Dante's house didn't just have old-lady-smell, it had I've-been-decomposing-underground-for-three-weeks-and-am-trying-to-cover-it-up-with-perfume-smell. Otherwise it seemed like a regular old lady house. When we finally met Dante, she gave off creepy vibes like Willow did right before I left.

She and Izumi just kind of watched each other after the snotty servant girl Lyra let us in. I tried to figure out what the hag was. She didn't seem like a real-stand-at-the-end-of-your-bed-and-steal-your-life-while-you-sleep kind of hag, but something about her was off, and the silence in the room was getting to me, so I broke it.

"You got a body under the stairs or something?" I asked. "Cause if you do, you need to put some more lime on it or something. It's utterly foul in here."

Izumi backhanded me.

"New apprentice?" Dante asked as I checked for loose teeth.

"After a fashion," Izumi said. "I came to ask you about something."

"What?" Dante asked.

And Izumi pulls out a piece of paper with sketch of Jimmy's foot tattoo, hands it to Dante, and says "this."

And Dante is all. "The orobourous, the snake eating its own tail. It means immortality. It means everything, Izumi."

"What does it have to do with Homunculi?" Izumi asks.

(I was listening to all this while looking around for anything valuable and pocket-sized to lift. Unfortunately, it seemed like the hag had spent all her money on heavy furniture.)

"Why do you ask me these things?" Dante said.

"Because you know," Izumi said.

And then the Hag looks at me. So I feel obligated to mention that "I don't have any creepy tattoos, thanks very much."

And she's all "You've seen someone with this tattoo."

And I was like, oh crap, because nobody had mentioned tattoos yet, so I tried to think of who would be the opposite of Greed (a guy) and Jimmy (a kid).

So I'm like, "Yeah. Saw it on some skanky woman a while ago."

And Dante is all "Can you describe this woman."

And I'm like. "I guess I could if I felt like it."

And I could tell that pissed her off, even though she was acting all "polite old lady" still. Since Izumi didn't mention Jimmy having that tattoo on his foot, I figured she wasn't mad about my lying. And then Izumi starts talking about arrays and other boring alchemy stuff and they act like they aren't interested in that tattoo anymore, but you can tell they both are. But after like an hour with neither of them bringing it up again, Izumi declared that we were leaving, and Dante sent the servant girl to get Izumi's medicine.

**Day 33**

I was too busy to write yesterday. When I went to the Devil's nest to warn Greed about how Dante might be looking for him because of that tattoo that I totally did not bring up, there were a bunch of chimera talking and I didn't see Greed anywhere, and when I asked the cat-ears guy, he said Greed was on the phone with somebody in Central. I was going to wait for him to come back, but then I heard one of the chimera say something about the Slayer and a lab in Central, and it occurred to me that maybe I should get myself to that city where everything interesting seemed to be happening. I took off out of the bar and a couple of guys tried to grab me but they weren't at all fast enough. So I was running for Izumi's (she was back on bed-rest, but feeling well enough to bitch at me) when a guy in a military uniform steps into the street in front of me.

I was like "Can I help you with something?"

And he's all "Probably not, but I've been sent to collect you."

And I was like "You work for that hag Dante, don't you? I totally knew she was evil!"

And he just shrugs and says "You can walk or I can drag you by your hair."

And I was all "You're gonna pull my hair? What is this, a chick fight?"

Apparently this guy really hates chick fights, cause he went totally nuts when I said that. I tried to run back to the bar, because this guy seemed more like he should be Greed's problem than mine, but he kicked me in the back and I went flying into a bunch of trash cans, I pretty much figured out I wasn't going to outrun him anywhere.

I pretended I was stunned and pulled the most recent knife I'd borrowed from the butcher shop as he walked over to grab me. When he was right by me I slashed him across the legs. I figured he'd fall down or something, as the knife had managed to cut and there was blood getting everywhere, but he ignored it and just slapped the knife out of my hand, and then dragged me to my feet. The slashes in his legs were sealing up and putting out all these purple sparks. I decided to change strategy and screamed for help. He belted me across the face, but all these people started coming outside to see what was going on.

And the creepy guy is all, "Now look at all the witnesses I have to kill."

And I was like "Dang."

I was kind of pressed for a distraction, so I pointed past him, and yelled, "Look, it's the Slayer!" He didn't turn to look, so I poked him in the eyes. He started yelling again and I kicked him as hard as I could in the side. He let go and I jumped back. I didn't have much in my magical arsenal besides levitation, so I went with that.

I was kind of stunned when the guy was lifted off his feet and thrown back through a window, but I wasn't going to sweat the details right then. I ran for it, and screamed for everyone else to run, too, and they did.

I took the long way around to get back to Izumi's, and climbed in a back window instead of using the door, just to be sure. Everything seemed dark and quiet (which was odd, since Jimmy didn't sleep, ever) so I tried to creep back to my room, but as I passed the door to Izumi's room, a knife came flying at me.

I hear there are normal people in the world who just say your name when they want your attention.

So I went in to talk to her.

"A soldier stopped by looking for you," Izumi said. "He was looking for Jimmy too, though he didn't say anything. He and Sig are staying at the shop tonight."

"I haven't done anything to piss off a soldier," I said. "Real ones, anyway."

Izumi says "I know."

"Your crazy friend Dante sent somebody after me," I said.

"I know," she said again.

And she stares at me for a long time until I get totally creeped out. And then she says "I know you aren't human."

And I'm like "Nobody made you the judge of human."

And she just stares at me some more. And then she says, "Open that drawer over there."

So I did, and it was full of money, (and that was new, because I'd totally snooped there before.)

"Go buy your train tickets," she said.

And I'm like "That's a lot of money."

And she's all "You're taking Jimmy with you."

I fought the urge to yell "Hell no!"

"Why?" I finally asked. "I thought he was your…whatever."

"He doesn't belong here," Izumi said. "I'd do anything to make him belong here, but he doesn't. He belongs on the other side…and I don't have it in me to send him there."

"There's more that one other side, you know," I said.

"What was it like where you came from?" she asked.

"It was hell on earth, but my family was there," I said. "I'll bring Jimmy back when things cool down and you get your crazy under control."

So I took the money to my room and shoved it and the clothes I'd been given into a bag I'd taken from the closet. I told Jimmy we were going on a trip to a candy factory and that he had to pack, too. He asked what I meant, and I told him to put his clothes in a bag. He took off the clothes he was wearing and put them in a bag. I hope he gets out of the habit of being dumb before we get to Central.

**8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888**

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long, I had a computer breakdown and a bunch of work to catch up on, and varied other excuses. Don't forget to review.


	26. Chapter 26

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**You Decide to Pull This Now?**

She ducked under the searchlight and was off and running again before the soldiers in the truck could even think about doing a second sweep. She had to be seen, of course, or this would be rather pointless, but she didn't have to be seen through a scope with her back against a wall.

It wasn't a bad job, really. As far as her life was concerned, it was probably the most noble thing she'd ever done. Her only real problem with it (besides the obvious risk of death in a hail of gunfire) was the dress code. Elem, the newest addition to their group, had let out the patchwork suit enough for it to fit her, but the damn thing still looked ridiculous. Marta wondered how Summer dealt with the face paint. It itched like crazy. Of course, a girl who barely noticed bullets punching through her probably wouldn't care about something like that.

But Summer had proved to be less than immortal after all.

Marta and Loa had received a whole lot of unpleasant news since they arrived in Central. The first they got from Dorchet, who was huddled in a phone booth making panicked phone calls. Summer had been taken out by an alchemic serial killer, the Homunculi had crawled out of under Lab 5, Hughes was compromised, and he couldn't even get through to Fullmetal.

They'd tried to hash out some kind of plan. They'd come back to Central to help Summer. They hadn't thought much beyond that. Fight some crime, resist a corrupt military regime, maybe take on a few immortal monsters. But all of that required Summer in the lead. There weren't many options now. They could head back to Dublith and fall in with Greed. They could leave the country. Or they could tread water and hope Summer recovered.

Marta didn't think that would happen. Summer was at best a vegetable, at worst a corpse that wouldn't rot. But Dorchet insisted that she'd somehow get better. Marta was heartless enough to hit him upside the head with reality, but what would be the point? She paused in an alley off of Hess Avenue to catch her breath. It wouldn't do at all for the Scrap Demon to be seen gasping.

There were plenty of punks to beat down in this neighborhood. She found a guy slapping around a girl who didn't look more than twelve, and put his lights out. The girl took off without a word, but tore the collar off her coat and let it drop behind her as she ran. Marta pocketed it. Why couldn't Summer have convinced them to drop money? A Coin Demon was much better than a Scrap Demon. Ten minutes later she found a guy crouched in an alley with a pipe held up over his head. She supposed the guy was waiting for the old woman who was shuffling up the adjoining street (at a sub-snail pace) to pass before him. Marta slammed his head into the bricks.

Marta decided to head for the refugee camps next. She was just turning a corner when she saw the girl and the Homunculus. The girl was a tall skinny teenager, probably older than she looked. She'd have said the boy was ten if he were human, but he had the same purple eyes and washed-out face that gave Greed away. The girl saw Marta, froze for a second, and then charged.

Marta tensed, preparing to bust the girl's face in, or run if she was a Homunculus too, but the girl skidded to a stop a few yards away.

"Oh," the girl said. "Sorry. Thought you were my sister."

"What?" Marta asked.

"I thought you might 'a been my sister, but you're too tall."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah," she said. "The whole masked superhero thing is totally something she would do. Don't suppose you know a girl named Buffy?"

"Buffy?" Marta asked. "What the hell kind of a name is 'Buffy'?"

The girl shrugged. "Oh well, thanks anyway." She turned and waved at the Homunculus. "Come on, Jimmy. We're finding a hotel."

"I found free gum!" the Homunculus declared, bending down to pull a well-trod lump off the sidewalk.

"No!" the girl shouted. "Don't put that in your mouth!"

The Homunculus paused for a second, looking at the gum and then the girl and back again. And then he popped it between his too-sharp teeth. The girl made a retching sound that may or may not have been feigned. Marta watched them bicker. The girl demanded the Homunculus take the gum out of his mouth. He did and put it in her hand. She threw it down and yelled some more. He picked it up and started chewing on it again.

"Hey!" Marta barked.

They both turned to look at her.

"You'll want to keep a lower profile than that if you're staying in Central long."

"What do you mean?" the girl asked.

"If the military sees that…kid," Marta said pointing at the Homunculus, who seemed disappointed the gum argument was forgotten, "They'll drag him off to a lab and probably put a bullet in your head to avoid objections."

The girl's mouth hung open for a second, but then she closed it and nodded.

"And don't go wandering around at night, especially in neighborhoods like this. If the soldiers don't get you, the local serial killers will."

"Alright," the girl said. "Thanks."

Marta made shooing motions at them until they hurried away down the block. She climbed to the roofs and shadowed them from above, making note of the hotel they stopped in.

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"It's good to see you're recovering, Sir!" declared Major Armstrong.

Hughes nodded wearily as he limped out of the bathroom. The hospital was discharging him, though he wished they wouldn't. He'd filed a dozen reports already about the attack. He said a woman had asked about Private Summers, and then stabbed him when he said he couldn't give her any information. He'd even given them a pretty good sketch of Lust, though he didn't mention she'd stabbed him with her pointed fingers rather than a knife. He wanted enough of the truth out there to make them nervous, not land him in a mental hospital.

Maybe it was a bad idea to take shots at the Homunculi, but what else could he do? They'd already threatened his family, and he didn't think they'd leave possible witnesses around, even if he did back off.

Armstrong hovered over him as he limped to the nurse's station to sign out, and then out to the street where a military car was waiting.

"So what have I missed?" Hughes asked Armstrong as they pulled away from the curb.

"Still no word on the killer," Armstrong said.

Hughes was tempted to say something hopeful, but the driver could be the shape-shifter. Hell, Armstrong could be the shape-shifter. He hadn't flexed even once since showing up at the hospital that morning. It may have been Summer-related depression, but Hughes wasn't going to risk it.

"Heard anything from Roy?"

"Colonel Mustang hasn't been responding to any communications. General Hakuro's office said he's out on a border patrol, but none of his subordinates was available either, according to them. It…seemed suspicious."

Hughes frowned. Why would Roy take everyone and head out of Eastern? He'd worry about it later. Roy could take care of himself.

"Anything else?" Hughes asked.

"There have been some strange reports, apparently filed by the Fullmetal Alchemist," Armstrong said. "You know him, Sir?"

"He helped deliver my amazing daughter Elicia!" Hughes declared, whipping out a picture.

Armstrong dutifully inspected it.

"What about Ed?" Hughes asked.

"The reports…are bizarre to say the least, and they were received through Southern telegraph lines, rather than from Eastern. The reports claim there is some kind of invasion going on along the southeastern border…and that vampires are involved."

"Vampires?" Hughes asked.

Armstrong nodded. "The military stations along the border are reporting everything normal, but the reports keep coming in, with Fullmetal's I.D codes. The last one was from New Luxe. He'll probably be back in Central tomorrow or the day after."

Hughes frowned. He wanted to warn Ed that the Homunculi were loose, but the kid hadn't crossed any of them directly, and they didn't seem that interested in him. Hughes didn't want to paint a target on the kid. But Fullmetal might stick his nose into things anyway. And what was going on with those reports? Could Ed have run into the Homunculi and was trying to draw the spotlight to them? If so, he should have just called them Chimera. At least those were real.

Hughes sighed as they pulled into the Central parking lot.

"Major, please arrange to have some guards waiting at Central Station for Ed. Have them take him to the hospital for psych-eval first thing and let me know so I can meet him there."

"Yes, Sir," Armstrong said.

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Scar remembered the boy well. They'd met twice in Central, before Scar had really understood what God wanted him to do. The boy claimed he had left the service of the State, but he had returned to it, and damned himself.

He watched the boy wobble as he stepped off the train. The towering armored guard that escorted him caught his elbow as he started to go over. The boy, the Fullmetal Alchemist, had a large bandage on his neck and bags under his eyes. He yawned, looking much younger than fifteen. Fullmetal patted his guard on the arm, probably saying he could walk on his own. He was released and looked around wearily. Scar saw the two military guards in their blue uniforms rush across the station towards the boy.

"Sir!" the female soldier called out.

Fullmetal waved back to her, and the four met in front of a coffee stand.

"Did my reports not get through?" the boy demanded loudly.

The woman looked a bit confused, apparently she had taken the armored figure to be Fullmetal, but she recovered quickly, unlike her coworker, who said something about expecting Elric to be fuller, and more metal. The blond teenager started to tell him off, but was cut short as his armored companion tapped him on the head. Scar edged towards them as their bickering distracted them. He could hear clearly now.

"-anyone get my reports?" the boy was saying again.

"They were received, sir," the woman said cautiously.

"So why isn't anyone doing anything? Those things are spreading, and if we don't get moving we're dead!" the boy continued.

"That's really outside my jurisdiction, Sir," the woman explained. "I'm only a second Lieutenant. I'm to escort you to the Military Hospital."

"The Hospital?" the boy shouted. "I don't need to go to the #ing hospital! I need to talk to the Fuhrer! Right now! Don't you get it? They're taking over Southern! We might have put a cap on things, but they're going to get out. Forget the Fuhrer! I need to talk to Private Summers. Can you take me to the filing offices?"

Scar paused for a moment, hearing that woman mentioned again.

"Sir," the female soldier said. "Private Summers is missing and presumed dead. There's a killer loose in Central. We are taking you to the hospital where you can be monitored-"

"What happened to Summer?" the armored one interrupted, his voice unexpectedly young. He didn't even notice when Scar put his hand on his shoulder.

"She was attacked by-"

The right side of the armor shattered, and the other half fell to the floor of the station with a hollow clang. The helmet bounced across the platform. There was no one in it. The soldiers began to draw their weapons, but Fullmetal moved faster. The boy leapt at him, palms pressed together. Scar felt the alchemic attack building and sidestepped. He would have dodged completely, but the empty suit of armor caught his ankle and he stumbled. He still managed to avoid it, though, and as the boy fell past him, he caught him by the front of his shirt and twisted, slamming the boy down on the platform. Scar grabbed for the boy's head with his right hand, but the boy put his arm in the way. The reaction burned away the boy's coat, revealing an automail arm.

A gunshot cracked through the crowded train station, and Scar ducked. Fullmetal kicked upward in that moment of distraction, and Scar lost his grip. The boy scrambled away and more bullets came at him. Scar slammed his hand down on the platform and the wooden flooring bucked up and shattered, throwing the two soldiers and many of the panicking passengers off their feet. Fullmetal had managed to avoid the wave of destruction and stood a few yards away, his arms up in guard position.

"Big brother!" the shattered and empty armor called. "Big brother, what's going on? I can't see! Where's my head?"

Scar was forced to move as a flailing arm nearly knocked him off his feet.

"I'm kind of busy now, Al," Fullmetal said, not taking his eyes off of Scar. "Just chill, and I'll get it for you."

"Why does that thing call you brother?" Scar asked as he moved toward the Alchemist.

"Cause he _**is**_ my brother, you bastard!" the boy growled. "Are you working for _**them**_?"

"I carry out the will of God," Scar replied, charging forward.

Fullmetal dodged, backing up further. He dropped under Scar's guard and kicked at his knee. Scar stepped back, sparing the joint, but the boy's foot struck his shin with unusual force. Scar's hand swept down and caught the limb before the boy could draw it back. Once again, the destructive alchemy failed. He wondered if any of Fullmetal's limbs were flesh and blood.

As the boy tried to free his leg, Scar backhanded him across the face. The boy rolled with the blow, twisting free, but he landed in a heap. The boy started to turn himself over, blood running from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Scar lunged in, and again the automail arm was brought up to block. This time he was ready, though, and the metal arm exploded in shrapnel and whipping wires. The boy made a distressed noise, and clutched the remains of the metal fixture with his other hand.

BLAM!

Another gunshot rang through the station. Scar grunted as the bullet grazed his back. It wasn't deep, though. The two soldiers were back on their feet, sidearms drawn, and several more security officers from the station were coming towards him. Fullmetal again took advantage of the distraction and scrambled backwards. Scar went to follow him, but another shot made him draw up short. He put his right arm to the platform again, this time pushing more energy into it. The concrete foundations cracked and split. The stone supports that held up the ceiling crumbled and the people still trapped in the station screamed.

A chunk of stone struck the male soldier on the head and he fell. The woman flinched in sympathy, but didn't take her eyes off Scar. She started to move across the crumbling platform, trying to get a clear shot at him without risking Fullmetal in the crossfire. Scar noted her course, and slammed his hand down again. This time a large section of ceiling fell, slamming into the woman. She'd started to dodge, but the rubble caught her in the chest. He thought she'd be dead, or at least unconscious, but before the dust even cleared, she was struggling to free herself, reaching for the gun that had been knocked out of her hand.

Scar looked back and saw Fullmetal had been struck by falling debris, as well. He appeared somewhat stunned. Scar decided to deal with the woman first, rather than risk being shot in the back.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

2nd Lt. Ross continued to reach for the gun, a foot beyond her fingertips. She grunted as Scar stepped onto the pile of debris that held her down, but she kept reaching, even as his hand came towards her face and the memories of all the bodies they'd found flashed through her mind.

"STOP!" a cracking teenage voice demanded.

Everyone in the station froze, even Scar, the only one capable of moving with any purpose, anyway. Ross looked past him and saw Edward Elric clutching the place where his arm used to be as he staggered towards them. He looked rather dazed, and the blood running from his nose, lip, and temple spattered onto the cracked tile of the station.

"I'm right here," he said, stopping a few yards away.

Scar watched him for a moment, and then stepped away from Ross. He kicked the gun away, and began walking toward the boy.

"Run, you stupid kid!" she shouted, insubordination-be-damned.

On the other side of the station, the armor, which was Alphonse Elric, screamed something along the same lines. Ed was slowly backing away as Scar stalked towards him, but he was leading him away from the others trapped in the station, rather than fleeing, as a sane person should. Ed got to the edge of the platform and with a last quick look at the shrieking, begging armor that was all that remained of his brother, he stepped back over the edge, out of sight. Scar leapt after him.

Ross put her arms under the rubble that pinned her down and pushed with all her might, but it wouldn't budge. She looked around the station, but no one was paying any attention to her. A beam had come down across one of the doors and people were running in panicked circles and smashing windows trying to get out. She looked over at Broche, but he was still flopped out on the platform, blood staining his hair.

"Damn it!" she growled, pounding her fists against the rubble.

She looked toward the edge of the platform. She wouldn't have been able to hear the kid even if he was calling for help, not over all the other noise. The crowd was shrieking louder now. She looked back just in time to see a lion charge through their midst, followed a moment later by a man with a sword.

She blinked, focusing on the animal first. It wasn't just a lion. Some of its body was covered with lizard-like scales, and its tail could have been transplanted from an alligator. The man was nearly as disturbing as the lion. His face was twisted in a snarl, lips curled back to expose too-sharp teeth with drool running down his chin. As he passed her, Ross heard a dog-like growl rumbling from his throat.

They leapt off the platform Fullmetal had just fallen from, and an explosion shook the station. The already-weakened ceiling had had enough and another huge chunk came free. Ross brought up her hands to shield her head. There was a loud thump, but only a bit of gravel and dust landed on her already half-buried form. She risked opening one eye.

There was a huge man standing over her, with the piece of ceiling broken across his back. In addition to being bigger than Major Armstrong, the stranger had stubby horns on his forehead, and slightly clawed hands. Ross wondered what she should say as the man tossed the slab of concrete, sheet metal and rebar aside.

"OK! EVERYBODY SHUT THE HELL UP!" a loud female voice boomed.

Ross twisted her neck to see who was talking. It was a woman in a patchwork suit, with clay and ash smeared over her face. She wanted to call her the Scrap Demon, but this woman looked slightly different from the woman who had punched her lights out on the supply train six months earlier. As Ross watched, she pulled a couple of tourists out of the way of falling masonry and began shouting orders, making people fall in line and stop pushing so they could actually get out of the door. Ross decided not to voice her thoughts concerning an imposter. It wasn't like impersonating a wanted felon was more illegal than being one.

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The boy had landed poorly. He was bent backward over one of the rails. Scar saw his feet moving weakly as he tried to get up, but his head was out of view. This was taking much longer than he'd planned. He walked carefully towards the boy, in case he had some last trick to pull with his vile art. Scar was wary of some kind of explosion. He wasn't expecting a lion.

The creature dove at him from the platform above. It was the same one that had dragged away that woman's body. Scar raised his right arm, but the creature twisted improbably in the air and managed to avoid the strike by the merest space. It struck the ground and pushed off, lunging at him again. He was forced to back away from the boy.

"More of your sinful work, Alchemist?" Scar asked.

"Hu?" Fullmetal asked, finally managing to sit up. "Gabriel?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

Whatever the creature's reply, it was drowned out by a second snarl, this one slightly more human, but only slightly. A man with a sword lunged over the edge of the platform. Scar rolled away from the first cut and would have used his right hand to destroy the man, but the lion creature lunged at him then, and he was forced to leap back. A second swing of the sword passed within an inch of his nose. Scar backed up again. The man circled behind him while the lion stayed in front.

Fullmetal started to get to his feet, but overbalanced and toppled across the train tracks again. The creature backed up to inspect the boy as he flailed about.

"Stay down…kid…" it growled.

Fullmetal either didn't hear or didn't care. He tried to get up again. Almost gently, the twisted creature stepped on the boy's back. Scar tried to strike in the momentary distraction, but the creature clawed at him, tearing open the sleeve of his coat, but missing the flesh. The boy looked up at him from between the lion's front legs. The creature's saliva was dripping on his head as it growled at Scar. The alchemist twisted around so he could see the creature standing over him.

"I can't sleep here," Fullmetal complained, blinking rapidly. "The train will run me over."

"What's wrong with him?" the snarling man asked through clenched teeth.

"…concussion…" the lion gargled. "…he's probably…ok…"

"Then come help me," the snarling man ordered.

The lion growled at him, but then came stalking towards Scar. He believed he could take them both. He turned to keep the man and creature in his line of sight. His right hand clenched. The lion's front legs bunched.

BLAM!

Scar flinched and rolled away as something burned through his chest. He looked up at the platform and saw the Scrap Demon pointing a rifle at him. He struck the ground with his right hand and a wave of energy shattered the platform, forcing the Demon to dodge and throwing the man and the lion back. Scar put his left hand to his injury. It was high, it had missed the lung, but the next shot might not. As his opponents righted themselves, he fled down the tracks.

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"I fell down," Ed mumbled as Marta pulled him to his feet.

He saw Dorchet and Gabriel running down the tracks after the guy who'd been blowing things up. Everything looked strange. The world wasn't out of focus, but it seemed like if he stopped looking at something, it would jump to somewhere different when he tried to look at it again.

"Why are you wearing that?" Ed asked Marta, pulling on her patched sleeve as she tried to get a grip on him to lift him back onto the platform.

"I'll explain later," Marta said. "Try to shut up, ok?"

Ed scowled. He was going to tell her to do the same thing, but then he couldn't remember what it was she told him to do. He finally managed to get back onto the platform with many awkward and uncomfortable boosts from Marta. The station had mostly emptied out, but there were a few stragglers gawking at Al. Ed picked up a chunk of concrete and threw it at them. It didn't hit anyone, but they took off like startled pigeons.

"We gotta' go kid," Marta said. "Military's coming. We'll talk to you later."

"Wait! Don't leave Al here," Ed said. "They'll see he's got no insides."

Marta sprinted to the luggage area and returned with a crate, and started tossing bits of Al in. Ed looked over and saw Loa lift a final slab of stone off of Ross, and despite warnings from the giant Chimera, Ross got to her feet, and limped over to Broche. The cut on his head was bad, but he didn't seem to have anything broken. Next she limped over to Ed. He saw blood soaking through her torn uniform.

"Major Elric, sir, are you in need of medical attention?"

"I'll go to the medic after I make my report. They're taking over Southern, and no one is listening to me. They act like I've flipped out, but I haven't. One of the damn things bit me! How much realer…more realer…reallyer…" he trailed off as his vocabulary failed to provide sufficient descriptions of reality.

"I believe you have a concussion, Sir," Ross said.

"Oh…realest?...no…where'd the crazy guy go?" Ed asked blearily.

"Dorchet's probably still chasing him," Marta said. "And we'd better hurry if we want to catch him before he gets himself blown up."

"Is he that dangerous?" Al asked from the box.

"He got the 'Boss'," Marta said. "I think it was more surprise than skill, but Dorchet ain't going to let it go."

"…I…she…" Ed couldn't spit out the rest.

"She's not really dead, but she's not all the way alive, either. We were sort of hoping you'd be able to do something. It looks like we'll have to put it off for a while, though. The dogs are coming."

Ed heard the sirens then. Loa picked up the box-of-Al and took off down the tracks Scar had fled down. Marta took a long look at Ross.

"I certainly didn't see or overhear a discussion with a fugitive," Ross said with a distinct lack of tone.

Marta smirked and took off.

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**Later that evening….**

The Fuhrer was busy. The Fuhrer was in a meeting. The Fuhrer has gone home for the night.

He'd been bounced from one office to the other, trying to talk to the Fuhrer. Ed almost wished he had stayed the night in the hospital, where he'd left 2nd Lt. Ross and Broche. The guards who'd escorted him to Central from the hospital were significantly less than helpful, and had ditched him as soon as he was inside the building.

Ed growled and kicked the nearest wall. "Is there anyone here to take my report? Can I talk to Lt. Colonel Hughes?" he asked at the last desk.

"He's unavailable," the sergeant on duty said. "I think I've got a flag on something for you, hang on."

The man shuffled through a few files. "Oh, yeah. You're supposed to see Colonel Archer about it. He's the only guy here right now with any authority in Southern."

"Alright, where is he?" Ed asked.

"Fourth floor, special projects office, under General Gran," the man said.

Ed couldn't control his scowl. "Is Gran still up there?"

"No, you're in luck. He's gone home for the night."

Ed nodded and set out on yet another long march through the building. He found Archer's office and the secretary told him to go right in. He did, and the guy in the office looked highly offended as he barged in. Ed decided he didn't mind.

"You Archer?" Ed asked.

The man nodded.

"I'm Fullmetal. The officer said you're in charge of my reports now."

Archer nodded. "Sit," he ordered pulling out a file.

"Where's your brother?" Archer asked.

Ed shrugged. "I don't know, shopping or something."

"I thought he went with you everywhere."

"He's fourteen; he doesn't need a babysitter."

Archer frowned and Ed got very suspicious.

"Is this about my reports?" Ed asked.

"Unfortunately, yes," Archer said. "I don't know what you thought you could accomplish-"

"I think it's pretty clear in the subject line there, "Vampires taking over Southern"," Ed pointed out.

"And you claim these 'Vampires' are replacing officers throughout the military?" Archer asked.

"For the hundredth time, yes!" Ed growled.

"And there is no way to tell these 'Vampires' from the originals?"

"No," Ed growled. "They have no reflection and they catch fire in direct sunlight."

"And no one else has reported this because-?"

"Because they've been turned into Vampires, you idiot!"

"I can have you brought up for court-martial if you continue with this insubordination," Archer said.

"Fine!" Ed said. "Bring it on. I can tell a whole military tribunal what's going on! And I won't forget to mention how you were too mentally enfeebled to pass on a goddamned report!"

Archer sighed. "Fine. Report to the medic, Fullmetal. We'll go see the General in charge of internal security once you've been cleared, and you can finish digging your own grave with this crazy story."

"Fine by me!" Ed declared.

Archer pulled a form out of his desk.

"Take this to the psych department on the first floor, corridor C. And don't take all night," Archer said.

Ed snatched the form with his left hand, and stormed out. There were still a few people in the psych department despite the late hour. Ed handed the form to the first guy he saw. The man looked it over.

"You need to have this filled out at the Military Hospital," the man said.

"Colonel Archer said I could get it done here," Ed growled.

"No, it has to be done at the Hospital," the man said. "See this line here?"

Ed saw it. Archer just sent him to the wrong place to waste his time. He sighed and marched out again. He managed to catch a ride back to the Hospital, and was wandering the halls when a nurse finally directed him to an office in the basement.

"Dr. Walton is the only one here at night," she said.

Ed finally found the place. He knocked on the door and was admitted. It looked like a regular hospital room, with a bed and a shelf of tongue depressors and gauze. He was starting to think he was in the wrong place again.

"Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?" the doctor asked.

Ed nodded. "I need you to sign this form that says I'm not crazy."

"You need an exam before I can sign that," the doctor said. "Have a seat so I can check your vitals."

"I just had an exam four hours ago!" Ed said.

"I don't have that file here so I have to check again."

Ed grumbled and sat down while the doctor checked his blood pressure and pulse and shined a light in his eyes.

"You're showing signs of a concussion," the doctor said.

"I had one earlier today," Ed said. "But I'm fine now."

"You don't get over a serious head injury that quickly. You should have been admitted for the night for observation."

"I'm fine!" Ed said. "Just get to the stupid form!"

"I can't do an evaluation while you're impaired," the doctor said as he walked around behind Ed.

Ed was about to argue more when a stabbing pain shot through his upper arm. The doctor had injected him with something. Ed pulled away and scrambled to the other side of the room.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"It was just a sedative to help with your concussion," the doctor said.

"You aren't…spose' ta give sedatives…for a concussion…" Ed said as the room tilted.

"Sorry, Kid," the doctor said. "I'm just following orders."

The floor hit Ed in the face.

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He woke up on a different floor and sat up. He couldn't move his arms. The right one was still missing. The left was strapped to his chest inside of a straitjacket. He looked around.

There was a concrete floor and a wooden bunk against one wall. There was a toilet in one corner, and a tap over a drain in the floor, but no sink. There was a single light bulb in a caged fixture in the center of the ceiling, but no switch, on the inside of the cell, at least.

The room reeked of cleaning solvent. He was probably still in the hospital, then, and he only knew one part of the hospital with this kind of dress code, the nut house. Ed considered using his foot to scratch a transmutation circle on the floor and make a break for it, but he didn't know where in the hospital he was. He could drop right into a sewer or fall into an assembly hall or something. His head was still fuzzy from the drugs. He didn't know if he could focus enough to transmute anyway.

"If Hughes doesn't come get me tomorrow, that's what I'll do," he mumbled. "And then I'll go kick Archer's ass."

He hoped Al was somewhere safe. He realized he'd forgotten to ask Marta where they were taking him, maybe to Hughes' house.

The light in the cage went out and Ed stumbled to the bunk.

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Ed woke up in a bad mood, and having to yell for half an hour to get someone to let him out of his straitjacket so he could use the bathroom didn't improve things. He was left in the room for most of the day, and given his meals ground up in a mug, with a straw in it so they didn't have to untie him. And of course one slurp of the stuff left his head spinning from all the drugs they'd ground up in it. He very carefully tipped it into the drain in the floor.

He was starving when the guards came by to let him out in the late afternoon. When he asked if he was being released, one of them just grunted, "social therapy" before leading him into a large room with a few folding chairs and a table with paper cups of tea and coffee. There were other patients milling about. One big guy was taking a sip from each beverage on the table and then putting it back. Most of them had their jackets off, but when Ed asked about his, the guard just shook his head.

Ed glared, but that didn't work either. He sighed and wandered into the room. He considered asking one of the other patients to let him out, but since the room was full of crazy people, he decided to keep to himself. He went to the beverage table, picked up the sugar bowl between his elbow and his chest, and sat down in a corner to eat.

He had just finished off the bowl when a shadow fell over him. He looked up. It was a pale guy with dark hair pulled back in a braid. He was in a straitjacket, too, and Ed was glad for that. The guy was totally creepy.

"Having a bad day?" the nut-job asked him with a predatory grin.

"No worse than most," Ed said, glaring.

"How'd you lose the arm?" the man asked.

"I didn't lose it," Ed said. "I know right where it is."

The man's smile only got wider.

"Blown off?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" Ed asked.

"I just really like explosions," the man said. "Especially when they involve people."

"Get away from me, you freak!" Ed growled.

The man leaned closer. Ed kicked him in the face. The orderlies rushed in. The weirdo was pulled off to one side, and Ed to the other. Ed noticed the guy who'd pulled him off to the side wasn't one of his guards from earlier. He actually looked at Ed like he was a human being.

"Stay away from him, kid," the orderly said. "That's Kimbley, the Crimson Alchemist, He's killed two people since he was transferred over."

"I was trying to stay away," Ed said. "He doesn't seem to understand personal space. Shouldn't he be locked in a room by himself?"

The orderly shook his head. "Somebody high up wants him cleared for duty again. God help whatever poor bastards they turn him loose on. On the plus side, he'll probably be out of here in a couple more weeks."

"I don't plan to be here that long," Ed said.

"What have they got you in here for, kid?" he asked.

"Oh…I sort of told them Vampires were taking over the military," Ed said.

"And you wonder why you're in here?" the orderly said.

"Unfortunately, it's true," Ed said. "And Archer is acting like it's some damn stunt, but my bastard C.O. hasn't been answering his phone and none of my contacts in Central have come through with anything, probably because that other serial killer is running around blowing people up, and blowing up automail, too. Who do I talk to about getting released?"

"You need one of the doctors to evaluate you, and declare you competent," the orderly said.

"Well how do I get a doctor to see me?" Ed asked.

"You have to fill out a form," the orderly said.

Ed looked down at the straitjacket.

"I guess I could fill it out for you," the man said. "Let me get a pen."

The orderly, Alan, filled out the form and promised Ed he'd turn it in at the end of his shift, but Ed spent another night in his cell without a reply. When he was let out for 'social therapy' again, Alan told him the psychologist was coming to interview him within the hour. Ed once again ate all the sugar from the beverage table and then kicked a chair over by a window to wait. Kimbley followed him again, but never got close enough to get kicked. He just sort of lurked so Ed couldn't let his guard down.

"It's a god-damn State Alchemist's convention!" declared a man in a lab coat. "Crimson, Fullmetal, How are you today?"

Ed supposed he was the doctor he'd been waiting for. He immediately didn't like him, but at least he wasn't Walton. This guy reminded him of that creep, Yoki, whom he and Al had deposed in that mining town a few months ago. He was only nice to people who could do something for him.

"You're a State Alchemist?" Kimbley asked.

"He most certainly is," the Doctor said. "The youngest in our country's history. I suppose you were a bit too young, though, hmmmmmmmmm? Seems like the pressure has gotten to you."

"The pressure hasn't gotten to me," Ed growled. "That toad Archer is trying to pull something. When my C.O. gets this straightened out, Archer'll be cleaning latrines for the rest of his career."

"So you didn't file a series of reports claiming 'Vampires' were taking over Southern?" the doctor asked.

Ed ground his teeth. "I'm not sure exactly what they are. They're not Chimeras like we originally thought, but they are infiltrating military command posts in Southern, and probably Eastern too, but we couldn't get any communications through to confirm it. We called them Vampires because they acted like the creatures in the stories. They bite people, they're afraid of the sun. Vampires fit."

The guy in the coat frowned.

"So you don't think you're surrounded by Vampires, now for example?"

"He does," Kimbley said. "He accused me of being one."

"I did not, you bastard! Go away! The doctor is talking to me, not you!" Ed said.

"Did he accuse you of being a Vampire?" the doctor asked Kimbley.

"Yep. He even kicked me. Check with the guards," he said.

"Son of a bitch! I kicked you because you wouldn't leave me alone!" Ed shouted.

"There's no reason to shout," the doctor said. "No, it seems to me that you are suffering from at least mild delusions. You'll be in here a week for observation. After that, we'll have another interview…"

"I want to talk to my C.O!" Ed demanded.

"I'm afraid you won't be able to use the phone. It would be bad for your condition," the doctor said.

"You're working for Archer, aren't you?" Ed demanded.

"Paranoia, too," Kimbley added. "You should add that to his file."

Ed jumped out of his chair and kicked him. Kimbley fell to the ground and Ed kicked the doctor for good measure, and then the two orderlies that tried to tackle him. They eventually brought in a half-dozen guards to hold him down, give him a shot, and drag him out of the common area. He got a compliment from an orderly for being able to fight so well without the use of either arm, but that didn't bring him much comfort as he sank into a drug-induced sleep.

He hoped Havoc was having better luck getting the word out about Vampires.

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**Eastern Headquarters….**

It was too quiet. Mustang fought the urge to go look out the window again. Over the last week, the night life in Eastern had died down to nothing. He couldn't get a dinner date no matter how much charm he laid on. Everyone wanted to be home before dark.

He looked at the most recent pile of paperwork Hawkeye had brought him. It was far thinner than usual, and consisted mostly of reports of AWOL soldiers. It said Lt. Greenbough was missing, but Mustang had seen the Lt running errands for General Hakuro the previous evening. There was still no word from Fullmetal, and he couldn't seem to get through to anyone in Central, on military or civilian lines.

There was a creaking from the hall outside his office, and he got up from his desk to go look. The corridor was dark and empty. He returned to his desk and started flipping through files again.

"Hey, Boss,"

Mustang dropped his pen.

Havoc stood just inside the door--worn, dirty, in civilian clothes, and smirking slightly. Mustang felt like a weight had come off his shoulders.

"Where the hell have you been?" Mustang demanded, trying his best not to sound relieved.

Havoc patted his pockets for cigarettes as he gave the Colonel a long look.

"Did any of Fullmetal's reports get through?" Havoc asked, finally finding a crumpled smoke. "Got a light?" he asked.

Mustang snapped his fingers and the end of the little paper roll flared to life. Havoc took a strained drag.

"They got here ahead of me," Havoc said. "They were waiting at the train stations, at all the military checkpoints. It's been getting quiet during the day around here, hasn't it? And just about dead outside at night?"

Mustang nodded.

"I think they've already turned the higher-ups. The Generals and Colonels aside from you. I guess you lucked out, Boss. They're afraid of fire."

"What the hell are _**they**_, Havoc?" Mustang demanded quietly.

"Dead," Havoc said, grabbing a chair and turning it so he could keep an eye on the door and the Colonel as he spoke. "Ed says they're called Vampires. Gotten any sun today, Boss?"

Mustang raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. "But I haven't been dead, either. How are they getting to the higher-ups?"

"They're turning them into Vampires. It's not everyone they kill that comes back. They have to kill them a certain way, to 'turn' them. Whatever they do, they need to drink blood. They look normal until they're about to feed, then they sprout fangs and their faces get weird, eyes turn yellow…"

"The 'Chimera' I sent you and Fullmetal after?" Mustang asked, getting up from behind his desk.

Havoc nodded tiredly. "The kid knew what they were. Some girl in Central gave him the lowdown months ago. He didn't believe until he got bit."

"Is he-" Mustang asked.

"No, he put up a fight and managed to kill it. He was heading for Southern and then Central the last time I saw him. His brother's not afraid of them at all, so I think he'll make it alright."

"We need to get Fuery, Hawkeye, and the rest together. Is there any way I can tell them apart from other people if they aren't feeding?" he asked.

"Apparently not," Havoc said.

There was something in his tone that made Mustang wary, and he started to transmute the air. Havoc grabbed his hands, and suddenly sharp nails were tearing the alchemic arrays off the back of Mustang's ignition gloves. He slammed his knee into Havoc's gut, but the other man just grunted a bit and smirked, his cigarette now clamped between fanged jaws, enlarged canines sticking out past his lower lip.

Havoc let go of his hands and Mustang drew back for a punch, but Havoc was much faster. He grabbed Mustang's lapels and lifted him off the ground. Mustang kicked at his captor. He chopped his hands down on the arms holding him, but Havoc didn't seem at all perturbed by his struggling. Havoc casually spat his cigarette out, and slammed Mustang down on his own desk, knocking the air out of his lungs. Paperwork fluttered every where. Mustang punched Havoc in the throat. This finally seemed to cause him pain, but not enough to make him let go. He just lifted Mustang up and slammed him down again, bouncing his former C.O.'s head off his desk.

Vision swimming, Mustang's hands scrabbled for one of the dozens of pens he knew had to be on his desk somewhere. If he could just scratch out an array...the cigarette was still burning on the carpet, he could smell it…

Havoc slammed his head into the desk a third time, and suddenly his arms wouldn't listen to him. His hand touched a pen, but knocked it dumbly to the floor. Havoc grabbed Mustang's jaw and twisted his head back, exposing his throat.

**88888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888**

**Author's note**: Sorry for the long wait. Everyone is out to get me. Don't forget to review!


	27. Chapter 27

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Dead But Still Pretty**

Alphonse Elric looked sadly at his foot. It was in the box next to him, but he knew if he reached for it, he'd fall off the couch. He wasn't interested in the foot itself, but he'd put a couple of books he was fond of down his right leg, and he was hoping they had fallen down into the foot when half his body was blown apart, rather than being lost somewhere in the Central train station. He wondered if he could ask the guy in the folding chair to check for him.

He looked over at the room's other occupant, an Ishbalan man who kept giving him odd looks. Al was used to odd looks, but this was starting to make him uncomfortable. The man worked for Summer, according to Dorchet, and Al guessed that made him okay, but things were so messed up at the moment Al didn't know who to trust. To top it all off, the Chimera had left him with this stranger while they went to search for Ed, or in Marta's case, impersonate the Scrap Demon.

"Have we met before?" Al asked.

The man watched him for a long moment. "I've seen you before. We were not introduced."

"Oh…well…I'm Alphonse Elric. Uh…nice to meet you?"

The man shifted. "My name is Elem."

"Uh…where did you see me before?"

"During the winter plague last year, the Flame Alchemist was going to take a group of us in for breaking curfew. You arrived and that strange water creature following you attacked us."

"Oh," Al said again. "That water-woman was pretty creepy. She looked kind of like my mom, when she wasn't all melted and trying to drown people, I mean."

"You have a mother?" Elem asked.

"Of course I have a mother. Well, I had a mother. She died."

"You're made of metal," Elem pointed out.

"I didn't used to be," Al said. He went to cross his arms, but since the right one was in a box, he just ended up rasping his left arm against his chest plate before it settled in his lap.

"So you used Alchemy to become this?" Elem asked.

"Sort of. I mean, my brother did the transmutation, and the point wasn't for me to end up a suit of armor. It was so I wouldn't die after I lost my body in a rebound."

"A rebound?" Elem asked.

"An alchemic reaction that gets out of control and starts consuming things you didn't include as reactants, like the floor…or your hands…"

"Why were you doing such foolish things? Where were your parents?" he asked.

"Our mom had died, and before that, our dad had left and just never came back," Al said.

"And your people just left you on your own?"

"Granny Pinako looked after us!" Al said defensively. "It wasn't anyone's fault but ours. Everyone told us not to mess with human transmutation, but the formula just made so much sense-"

"Human transmutation?" Elem asked. "Raising the dead?"

Al nodded.

"Then they've brought you here to do it again," Elem muttered.

"Do you mean Summer?" Al asked. "I mean, she isn't really dead, is she?"

"I do not know, but this return to the vile art of alchemy to solve every problem, it can only lead to disaster."

There was a long moment of brooding silence.

"You're kind of a pessimist, aren't you?" Al asked.

"I do not put faith in ungodly things," Elem said. "They should bring a doctor for Summer…and get a…a mechanic for you."

"Oh yeah!" Al said suddenly.

"What?" Elem asked.

"Well, a mechanic wouldn't help me, but we should call big brother's mechanic. That scarred guy blew up his automail, and I don't think we'll be able to go all the way home to get it fixed. Is there a phone I can use?"

"We make calls from the payphone a few blocks from here, in case things are traced back," Elem said. "I suppose I could make a call when one of the others gets back."

"I'll be fine on my own," Al said.

"It's not you I've been charged with watching."

"It's me!" called a female voice from behind the couch.

Al would have leapt out of his skin if he had any. He turned as far as he could and saw a mousy young woman with thick glasses peering at him.

"Hello! I'm Shezka. I'm a hostage. Do you have anything to read? I'm really bored."

"I think there are a couple of books in my foot over there," Al said pointing into the crate that held the rest of his body. The woman dove in.

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Hughes tried to ignore the ache running through his legs, torso, and arm. The stab wounds were healing according to the doctors, but they didn't feel that way. He tapped his pen, waiting for the operator to put him through. His mind wandered to where Gracia could be. Dorchet had passed him in a crowd, stuffing a newspaper into his hands with a note folded up inside.

**The WARNING has gone out. The situation is UNCHANGED. Where is the BRAT?**

He supposed the BRAT, was referring to Edward, and since the teenaged Alchemist hadn't come to Hughes after he was released from the hospital, that meant he was missing. Hughes had tried to open an investigation, but he'd gotten the run around about needing Fullmetal's C.O.'s approval, just to make sure the kid wasn't out on some other top secret mission or something. And since Mustang still wasn't responding to any messages…

"I'm sorry sir," the operator said "The other operator isn't forwarding the connection to Eastern HQ."

"What about the civilian lines?" Hughes asked.

"I'm sorry sir. There's no way to patch around it."

"Alright. Tell me if it clears up."

"Yes, sir."

Hughes hung up and glared at the phone, and then he marched back up to his office. Well, it was more a shuffle than a march. Plenty of people hurried out of his way, though. When he got back to the Court Martial Office he called up 2nd Lt. Ross and Sergeant Broche, and sent them to retrace Fullmetal's steps after he left the hospital. It wasn't their fault he was missing, but Ross seemed to have a personal interest in the boy's safety, and Hughes thought that was probably for the best. (Unless of course she was one of those shape shifting things, but without Summer around to check on that sort of thing, he would just have to remain paranoid.) The two officers returned three hours later without good news.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" Hughes asked. "Details, please."

"Sir, Colonel Archer superseded your orders so he could discuss Fullmetal's reports with him. He said Fullmetal pitched a fit and stormed off."

"If Fullmetal had 'pitched a fit' Archer wouldn't have a single intact piece of furniture in his office," Hughes said.

"All I have are Colonel Archer's reports sir. I can't…"

"You can't call him I liar, I know. Damn. Alright. Screw it. Get me all the transfer and requisition orders filed yesterday, and all the medical paperwork filed."

The 2nd Lieutenant returned with three crates stacked one atop the other, and Broche trotted along behind her with a dolly, also stacked beyond the recommended height with files.

"The civil defense department just turned in all of last month's paperwork at once," Ross said. "There are thirty more crates, Sir."

"Well, that does rather imply they're trying to bury something, doesn't it?" Hughes said with a slightly sickly grin.

"And he's succeeded," Broche muttered.

Hughes let out an overdramatic laugh. Ross and Broche exchanged concerned looks.

"So he thinks," Hughes said. "Go get those other crates before someone spills coffee or lighter fluid on them."

"Yes sir!" Ross said.

She marched out of the Court Martial office with Broche on her heels, pulling the dolly. She thought she might've heard Hughes mutter 'Game on!' but then decided that could not have been the case.

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**The Forest** **above Dublith…**

Lust straightened her coat and pushed her hair back a bit before starting up the steps of the mansion. It had been a long train ride. All of this could have been done over the phone. Sloth would have been allowed to do this over the phone, but Lust still had to jump through hoops. A dark-haired girl in a maid's uniform opened the door for her and she idly wondered if this was Dante's next body. Their master was seated in a rocking chair in the study with knitting in her lap. The smell was worse than last time.

"What do you have to report?" Dante asked.

"I haven't been able to locate the Slayer, or Private Summers, if that is who she is the rest of the time. Someone is still running around in that ridiculous costume, but it's probably just one of the Chimera. I haven't been able to backtrack her to their hideout, and Hughes has gotten rather good at slipping around me, or he's completely cut off communication with them."

"I've sent a few more agents to look for his family," Dante said. "Perhaps they'll have more luck than Envy."

"New agents?" Lust asked.

"No. Barry the Chopper and the Slicer turned up again. I thought they might be made use of."

"You think they'll do better than Envy?"

"Oh no, my dear, I expect them to forget all about their orders and cause chaos, but I had to send Envy and Gluttony to look into whatever is going on in Southern and Eastern. I can't have someone taking over my country when I've got it just the way I like."

Lust waited for her to continue.

"What progress have you made with the State Alchemist killer?" Dante asked.

"Not much. If he took out the Slayer, he must be good, for a human. The Chimera pack managed to chase him away from his latest target; the Fullmetal brat."

"I've been hearing some strange things about Fullmetal. It would be a shame if he had some sort of breakdown before he played his part."

"Did you want me to have a word with him?" Lust asked.

"If your paths cross, use your best judgment. I have a new task for you, though. A girl and a boy were staying with my old apprentice Izumi until about a week ago. I think they may have run to Central after Envy bumbled an attempt to retrieve them. Neither one of them was human, and the girl…she wasn't a homunculus, either. I want them both brought to me."

"What about your old apprentice?" Lust asked. "Should I take care of her?"

Dante smiled. "She might be a bit too much for you to handle." Dante looked out the window toward the lights of Dublith. "She'd have been the perfect body to replace this one, if she hadn't ruined herself trying to transmute her child back to life. I should've gotten rid of that hulking husband of hers right at the beginning….but it's far too late for that now. This old body is getting so slow…" Dante trailed off, inspecting her wrinkles in the dark glass.

Lust said nothing. She knew the old woman would steal her body in an instant, but a homunculus couldn't use alchemy and the old woman wouldn't give that up. It might cost her her immortality later.

"You can go now," Dante said.

Lust nodded and walked slowly out the door. It was cold outside and she exhaled slowly, but no puff of condensation formed in the air. There was endless energy to regenerate, but none to keep her warm.

She walked to Dublith. If she were reported to Dante by another of her agents (and there was always backstabbing among the sins) she'd just say she was trying to pick up the boy and girl's trail. She realized belatedly that Dante hadn't even bothered to describe the children she had to hunt down.

Lust stood outside the Curtis house. The lights were already out and the curtains drawn, but she knew they were inside, sleeping and oblivious. She'd seen Izumi Curtis before, of course, but hadn't thought much of her. She was just one more pathetic mortal who'd crippled herself trying to be more than she was. Humans did that all the time.

Lust frowned and pushed aside the echoes in her mind of another life where she had been just as pathetic and grasping, desperate for another to cling to, someone more solidly attached to life than she was, another who could not be swept away.

She could hear two people snoring inside the house, and she spent the rest of the night outside, hating them.

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**3 Days Later….**

Winry Rockbell didn't think this was such a good idea, and Granny was completely against it. But maybe that was why she agreed to it. So here she was riding in the third-class seats with an arm in her bag.

The call had come in three days earlier, from a stranger with a faint accent. He said he was calling on behalf of Edward Elric, who had had his automail arm blown up, and needed a new one. When she'd asked for proof that this message was really from Ed, the stranger had related some details of Resemboul. When that still didn't convince her, he started retelling a childhood story that Ed and Al had sworn they would take to their graves.

She had been warned not to mention Ed to anyone on her way there and to dress as indistinctly as possible. She frowned at her bland jacket and ankle-length skirt. She didn't look like an engineer at all.

She wondered if she'd brought enough gear. She'd made an arm based on Ed's old measurements, but he could have grown a bit since then, and she'd probably have to make some serious adjustments if that was the case. She also didn't know what condition his automail plugs were in. Granny was the automail surgeon, not her. If things were really bad, they'd just have to find someone locally to redo the nerve grafts. She looked toward the end of the car. The baggage train was only one car down, but she'd probably draw attention if she kept going to look at the crate her equipment was in. Even that was traveling undercover. It was labeled bicycle parts.

She chewed her lip as the lights of Central appeared on the horizon. Whatever Ed was mixed up in, it was big and he probably wouldn't tell her about it, even if he was in over his head. (That would only be neck deep for her, but still, it was annoying.)

The station was crowded and loud, and she had to wrestle her crate of gear from a snotty man in a suit who insisted that he recognized his own bicycle. And then there was the additional hassle of going around large piles of rubble where part of the roof had collapsed. She wondered what could have caused such a mess. It was probably Ed's fault.

She hadn't been to Central in a few years, but her memories of it were still clear. It was kind of hard to forget a city where you were snatched by a cleaver-wielding serial killer. The maniac had been executed, but she still started when she heard a truck rumble past. She chewed her lip. It wasn't like Barry the Chopper was going to come back from the dead. She tucked her half-meter torque wrench through her belt under her jacket just in case.

The stranger had told her to wait for him in the station, rather then go to military HQ looking for Ed. All this cloak and dagger was giving her a sour stomach. She picked a bench and slumped down, with her suitcase between her feet and her arm resting on the crate. A short time later, a bum shuffled up to her. She started going through her pocket for loose change.

"Ms. Rockbell?"

She started. Her name wasn't on her case, was it?

"Are you Winry Rockbell?" the man asked.

She nodded, now recognizing his voice. It was the man who had called her, but she'd been expecting a soldier, not a homeless man. It could be a disguise, she supposed.

"I…I'm the one who called you about…"

"I know," she said. "You got a name this time?"

"Elem," he said quietly. "We should get going," he added, picking up her crate.

He nearly tipped over under the weight. She picked up her suitcase and followed his staggering progress out of the station. She was pretty sure she could take this guy even without her wrench. The crate was barely eighty pounds, for crying out loud.

They walked for about two miles into a residential neighborhood, and went around into the backyard of one of the many cookie-cutter houses. Elem lead the way down a staircase to a basement door. He pushed it open and staggered in, dropping the crate with a sigh.

Winry was slow to follow him in. The lights were on, at least. She supposed that meant nobody was waiting in there to bash her over the head with something. She stepped in, quickly getting a solid wall behind her back. It was a rather ordinary-looking room, with a couch, a table, a few boxes of junk, and a cot in the corner.

Most of Alphonse Elric was sitting on the couch. His side was rent in and his right arm and leg were missing. He waved with his left hand.

"Hey Winry," he said weakly.

"What happened to you?" she said. "Where's Ed? This is his fault, isn't it?"

"No!" Al said. "No! This crazy guy just attacked us in the train station. Honest! Ed didn't even talk to the guy or anything!"

"Where is Ed?" Winry demanded.

"Marta is getting him right now," Al said.

"Getting him?" she asked. "Getting him from where?"

"The high security mental ward of the military hospital," a new voice answered.

Winry turned away from Al, on whom she had been advancing in a threatening manner. A mousy young woman with thick glasses was coming down the steps.

"She'll probably be back soon," the woman said. "Unless they were caught. Hello."

"Hey Shezka," said Al. "This is Winry Rockbell. She's an automail mechanic."

"Hello," Shezka said again. "Do you have anything to read?"

Winry's mouth worked for a second. "I have a couple of specification manuals," she said.

Shezka held out her hands. Winry went to her crate and pried it open. She fished out the technical manuals and handed them over. Shezka sort of hugged the books and then sat right down on the floor. She opened the first one and her eyes started rolling across the pages. Winry looked at Al and Elem. They both just shrugged. Winry stepped around Shezka and went to look at Al's shattered side. She frowned and then reached back into her belt and pulled out her wrench.

"Ed better get here soon," she said as she slapped the wrench against her palm.

Al and Elem looked worried. Shezka continued to read.

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The hospital was well-guarded, and the Scrap Demon costume would have been the equivalent of a "shoot me" sign, so she wore all black. Marta stretched one last time and then started to climb. Though she didn't have the strength Summer did, to fling herself onto the roof with the slightest effort, her own alterations gave her an advantage in climbing. No handhold was out of reach. She scaled a well-shadowed wall and then squeezed into a vent. She was forced to dislocate her shoulders and hips to get around a few trick bends. She wouldn't be able to get the brat out this way.

The halls were annoyingly well-lit, so she was forced to creep along at a sloth's pace, hanging from the ceiling. Guards passed underneath, unaware, and most of the sound of her movement was masked by the shouts of the patients, anyway.

The Fullmetal brat had been in this place a week, according to the records Hughes had dug up. Marta had been a bit surprised to see Hughes wandering around by the refugee camp the night before, and they had circled each other nervously, trying to figure out if it was a setup. Finally, he just set an envelope down in the street and walked away from it. Marta had circled a bit more, but couldn't find a trap, and no homunculi jumped out at her when she picked it up.

Though Hughes had provided her with exact floor plans, she didn't know which room she'd find the kid in. Eventually, she located him when she recognized his voice. The angry muttering led her to him from two halls over.

"Talking to yourself ain't helping your case," she said to him through the little window in his door.

She picked the lock in a moment, and slipped in.

Edward Elric was glaring at her, though it was more pathetic than threatening. His hair was loose and hanging in his face, and the straitjacket kept him from pushing it out of his way. Since he was lacking an arm, they had run the strap from his left hand around his body and tied it again to his left elbow. He had on scrubs under it and his feet were wrapped up in squashy slippers that were fixed on with more straps.

"Ok," Marta said. "I give. What's with the booties?"

Ed glared down at them, and then slumped. "They caught me scratching a transmutation circle with my feet," he said. "Some guy squealed on me. You wanna' let me out of this thing? I gotta pee so bad I can taste it."

Marta snorted, pulled a knife from her belt and cut him loose. With another snort she turned her back so he could make use of the toilet.

"So they didn't believe you?" she said conversationally.

"That _**toad**_ Archer had all my reports. He said I was either nuts or trying to cause a panic. He had me put away for observation. When I get a new arm I'm going to kick everyone's asses!" he declared.

Marta smirked.

"How come Hughes didn't get me out of here?" Ed asked. "He doesn't think I'm nuts, does he?"

"No. He can't get near you. The Homunculi are following his every move, and with Summer out of action and Greed in Dublith, all we can do is stay out of their way."

Ed frowned. Marta was pretty sure he still didn't believe the Homunculi were real. Of course, he had only met Greed, and rather than using his amazing regenerative abilities or armor in front of the kid, he'd made short jokes.

"So what now?" Ed asked.

"We're going to go see 'the Boss,' and maybe you'll be able to snap her out of it."

Ed was a bit surprised when they didn't flee to Hughes' house after breaking out of the hospital. Instead, they took a convoluted trip to a house full of books in a suburb not all that far away from Hughes' place. Ed recognized the young woman who opened the door for them. He'd seen her at the Central Alchemists' library when he'd first gotten his State License. When he asked her about that, as they walked through her house filled with books, she replied that she had been fired for reading when she was supposed to be working, and was now a hostage.

Ed had looked sharply at Marta, but the chimera just shrugged, and pointed down a narrow staircase. He carefully descended.

"What did you do to my automail, Edward?" a familiar voice demanded.

Ed froze in terror.

"You didn't tell me she was here," he hissed at Marta.

Marta smirked, even as Ed narrowly dodged the wrench that was chucked at him.

"I'd like to go back to the mental hospital, please," Ed whined.

Winry seemed unusually upset as she checked Ed's automail plug, and took measurements of his remaining arm. Ed was the one who should be mad, stuck in a mental hospital, dragged off to a strange and possibly unsanitary basement to get his automail fixed after some psycho junked his right arm, and nobody was doing anything about the vampires. Even the Chimera were giving him funny looks when he confirmed the story Al had told them.

Winry did a trial fitting of the arm she'd brought with her, but it was a little too short. Normally this would have caused Ed to jump around and dance for joy, had the Chimera, Shezka and Elem (another new addition to the group) not been watching. Apparently watching a person have their limbs removed and reattached was really fascinating. Ed might have been able to put up with it, except every time Winry went back to her work bench to get something, the gawkers would move a little closer. It got to a point where he turned around and found Shezka and Marta less than two feet away from him, peering into his disassembled shoulder.

"Stop trying to look in my socket!" Ed declared, covering the space with his left hand.

"You should buy him dinner first," Dorchet said, snorting.

It took Ed a second to figure out what was being implied even as Marta joined Dorchet in snickering. Ed grabbed a bolt off the floor and chucked it at the dirty-minded dog boy. It got him in the forehead as he tried to duck, and then bounced across the floor. Ed was just turning back in his chair when Winry swung a wrench at his head. He ducked it with a practiced twist.

"Go find that bolt, Edward Elric!" she demanded shrilly. "They don't grow on trees, you know!"

Ed grumbled and went to retrieve the bit of metal, but probably wouldn't have found it if Gabriel hadn't pointed with his tail. Ed had a feeling Dorchet and Gabriel didn't get along, and he wondered if it was because one was part cat and the other part dog. That would be kind of cliché, wouldn't it? It was annoying either way. Ed frowned. The only chimera he didn't really mind at the moment was Loa, mostly because the giant man just leaned against a wall and never said anything.

"It will take me six hours to adjust this!" Winry declared, slapping her wrench against her palm. "When I'm finished with the arm, I want a look at that leg. It probably needs to be extended or replaced, too."

"While she does that, you can take a look at the Boss," Dorchet said.

Ed swallowed as the chimera started up the stairs. He looked over at Al, but the armored boy just shrugged. He didn't know what was up there either, apparently. Ed held tightly to the banister with his remaining hand as he followed.

You know it's not a great hotel when there's a body in the bathtub.

"What the hell?" Ed mumbled.

"Well, it was easier than leaving her downstairs in one of the beds. Stuff kept leaking out," Dorchet added nervously.

Ed edged a little closer to what he was pretty sure was a corpse. Her eyes were closed and he saw not even a hint of breathing, but when he peeled back an eyelid, the pupil sluggishly contracted. There was a bright red splotch on her forehead. It covered most of her forehead and disappeared into her hairline. He inspected it more closely, and realized it was a handprint. A large bath towel was wrapped around her torso, to preserve her modesty Ed supposed, or maybe to absorb the stuff that 'kept leaking out'.

"Is there a pulse?" Ed asked.

"Couldn't find one," Dorchet said. "But her heart beats once every three or four minutes."

"Even if she's alive, she'd be totally brain dead by now," Ed said, shaking his head.

"No!" Dorchet growled.

Ed waited for more of an argument to follow, but that was it. No.

"What do you expect me to do?" Ed asked.

"Fix her!"

"You might not remember this discussion because your guts were falling out at the time, but I'm not skilled enough in bio-alchemy to heal someone!"

"She doesn't need healing," Dorchet said. "She'll heal on her own. She isn't like us."

The chimera reached into the tub and carefully rolled Summer over. Ed saw the tattoo in the center of her back. It was the orobouros, a winged serpent eating its own tail. There was another array around the outside of it, one Ed didn't recognize. The orobouros, though…did that mean Summer hadn't really been alive to begin with? He'd heard of that symbol being associated with immortality and homunculi both.

"So fix her," Dorchet said.

"I don't know where to begin," Ed said.

"Marta said that Greed said that those fake philosopher's stones they took from Lab 5 would fix her. We still have them," Dorchet said.

"Did Greed say how to use them?" Ed asked.

"Greed ate them," Dorchet said.

He leaned into the tub and rolled summer over again, and then pried open her mouth. Ed saw the chimera had stuffed a fake philosopher's stone in there.

"It didn't do anything," Dorchet said.

"Well, there is a huge surprise," Ed said. He picked the stone out; it had gotten slimy but didn't seem to be dissolving. "Did you ask Greed about this yet?"

"We didn't tell him about this. If he knew, he might come out here and take the Boss away. I think he's got less than honorable intentions towards her," the chimera said.

Ed wanted to bury his face in his hands, but since one of his arms was missing, and burying half his face wouldn't block nearly enough of this out, he got up and staggered out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" Dorchet asked.

"I've got to think," Ed said.

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_I'm just going to say no, _Ed thought_. I'm going to say no. What can they do about it? Nothing, that's what. And what'll happen then? Nothing._

He slouched further on the couch he was sharing with Al and frowned. If nothing happened, then the vampires would just keep spreading until they got to Central. Everyone would believe him then, but it would be too late. Half the country would be the living dead.

Even as he tried not to think about Summer, a formula was writing itself out in his head. It wouldn't even be a human transmutation, just an energy transfer. If he used the stones to jumpstart the array that was keeping Summer alive in the first place…

But Summer hadn't used the stones herself, because she said they were made from human lives. Ed found himself trying to work out that formula as well, despite the moral trouble it was causing. Just thinking about it wasn't that wrong, was it? It wasn't like he'd ever actually do it.

_That's probably how Tucker started out, too. I just want to know if it's possible. I'd never actually do that to someone. I'd never actually try it…_

Ed frowned harder. He looked over at his brother. "Al-"

"We should do it, big brother," Al said, as if he knew exactly what Ed was thinking. "Summer helps a lot of people, and the people that got hurt making those fake philosopher's stones won't be any better off if we don't use them."

"So you're saying the ends justify the means?"

"No! I'm saying…uh…we might as well reheat the leftovers."

"You can't use cooking metaphors," Ed grumbled.

"Why not?"

"You just can't," Ed said.

"So you'll try it?" Al asked.

"Yeah," Ed said. "After Winry finishes my arm and I patch you up. And you're staying out of this."

"Why?" Al said. "I could help!"

"I can do the arrays on my own, and either it will work or it won't, and you don't really want to be there if it won't."

"I can handle it," Al insisted.

"But why would you want to?" Ed muttered.

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Elem walked through the market with his head down. He just didn't know what to do anymore. The alchemist and Dorchet had taken Summer's body somewhere, to try to force life back into it. He'd left Shezka's house shortly after they did. If they failed, they'd bring back her corpse, but if they succeeded, he didn't know if he could stand to be around a walking corpse.

His first thought had been to just wash his hands of it and move back into the camps, but someone else had already taken over his shack, and he had no real desire to fight them over it. He supposed he'd wander aimlessly and hopefully find a building to hide out in after curfew. He probably would have continued to wander, lost in thought, had someone not been obstructing the sidewalk ahead of him.

He saw it wasn't an official military checkpoint and relaxed a bit. It was only the Strong Arm Alchemist showing people a sketch. Seeing that alchemist was enough to turn his stomach, but the giant Amestrisian had never showed any particular animosity towards his people after the war. Elem edged a bit closer, peering over shoulders to see who the military wanted this time.

It was a sketch of Summer.

The huge man was entreating passersby to look at the sketch and a smaller military I.D. photo, practically begging them to inform the military at once if they saw her anywhere. There was a reward for any tip that led to her safe recovery, or even the recovery of a body. The giant alchemist looked ready to burst into tears as people averted their eyes and shuffled past with blank faces.

Elem knew it was ridiculous to feel sorry for one of the men who helped slaughter his people. All the monsters are acting human these days.

He was about to push his way through the mass of people to a less morally ambiguous part of town when he saw a face in the crowd. Can someone be familiar if you've never met them? If all you've heard were the most vague descriptions? He saw another Ishbalan, moving through the crowd towards the alchemist. Elem could only see the side of the man's face, and couldn't even confirm that the bits of scarred flesh he saw were part of the distinctive X he'd been warned about by the Chimera. Without knowing how, he knew who the man was.

Elem supposed he was able to surprise the man because he himself hadn't know what he was going to do until he was grabbing the scarred man by the right wrist and pulling him backwards. The scarred man twisted, and Elem saw the X-shaped scar. This was definitely the man who had injured Summer and killed dozens of others in the past month.

_Why am I doing this?_

Unable to answer himself, Elem held Scar's right wrist with both hands.

"Just turn around and leave," Elem said.

"Release me, brother," Scar said.

Elem did not obey. He wasn't able to block the other fist coming at his face, but he hadn't spent time in the military's prisons without learning to take a punch. He shook it off.

"Turn around and leave or I'll call him over here, I swear it," Elem hissed.

"Betrayer," Scar growled back, trying to get loose before Armstrong turned around.

"You're the fool trying to bring their wrath upon us again!" Elem said, not at all quietly.

"You would deny our people justice? God has given me the means for our revenge," Scar said.

He kicked Elem in the ribs and the smaller man lost his grip, falling back into a woman who shrieked. Armstrong began to turn and Scar lunged at him, but Elem lashed out with his foot, forcing him to sidestep.

"Revenge won't save us," Elem said, trying to kick him again.

Scar caught his leg. "There is nothing left to save."

There was blood everywhere. Elem wasn't entirely certain what happened after that. A shadow passed over him and things exploded and there was shouting. And then it got very dark.

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Dorchet watched as the kid painted a huge circle on the warehouse floor. Inside the big circle, he painted a huge figure eight that touched the outer circle at the top and bottom. Then the kid drew another circle about three feet across around the node of the figure eight. Then the kid got back up and started drawing runes all around the inside of the outer circle. Dorchet couldn't figure out how any of this would help Summer, but if he asked questions, the kid would just give him attitude, or purposefully use jargon he couldn't understand.

He shifted the blanket-wrapped body in his arms. Summer had lost weight in the weeks she'd been…ill.

"Put her down there," Ed said.

Dorchet obeyed, taking her out of the blankets and setting her on one side of the figure 8.

"Face down," Ed ordered.

Dorchet glared but rolled her over. Ed knelt next to her and tugged on the collar of the pajamas Marta had dressed her in. Ed muttered a curse and then ripped open the fabric over her back, exposing the altered orobouros mark between her shoulder blades. Ed picked up the paint can again and drew two lines across her back, leading from her tattoo to the array he'd drawn on the ground.

"What's that for?" Dorchet asked.

"The array should allow me to limit the amount of energy being transmitted from the stone to Summer. The rest should be bled off into the outer array and dissipate as heat," Ed said.

"You're only using one?" Dorchet demanded as Ed set a single stone in the opposite side of the figure 8.

"They're unstable and highly reactive," Ed said. "You don't want her to fry, do you?"

"Greed ate a handful of those things and nothing bad happened to him."

"You want to do this?" Ed demanded. "Fine! It's all yours and I'll just get out of blast range."

"Stop being such an annoying little-"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT-"

Dorchet growled and took a swing, but Ed ducked it easily and socked him hard in the jaw. He's used his left hand instead of the automail fist, but it still left Dorchet's head ringing. The situation might have progressed to further stupidity, but Ed tripped over Summer's leg and fell down, and it sobered both of them up.

"Let's just get this over with," Ed growled. "Go stand over there. **If **I tell you, and only **if**, take another of the fake philosopher's stones and toss it into that circle over there. Otherwise, just stand there."

Dorchet nodded. He hated being bossed around by a brat, but for the Boss's sake he put up with it.

Ed knelt in the circle around the node of the figure 8. With his eyes closed, he clapped his hands together and then pressed them down. Red light flared up in the stone and leapt to the lines Ed had drawn, racing through them like a lit fuse. It ran around the circle Ed was kneeling in and he flinched, but his eyes stayed closed. The light passed him and continued on to Summer, running up the lines and into the symbol tattooed on her back. Dorchet thought she might've twitched. The light started to fade out.

"One more!" Ed growled.

Dorchet looked through the bag, and picked out the biggest stone. He pitched it into the now-empty end of the figure 8. The reaction flared up again, but faded without seeming to help.

"One more!"

"One more!"

"One more!"

They went through half the stones and Dorchet didn't see any change. He was starting to wonder if Elric really knew what the hell he was doing. The next time the Alchemist called for another stone, Dorchet pitched the rest of the bag in.

The explosion was huge.

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Ed felt like he'd been set on fire, but the Gate hadn't opened, so that was something, at least. He planned to kill Dorchet as soon as he regained control of his limbs. How hard was it to count to _**one?**_ Ed shakily patted his palms against his sides. His gloves were smoking slightly, and fumes and ash were rising up off the floor. He started coughing, and tried to wave the smoke away as he looked around the room. He didn't know if the energy transfer had worked. He could make out a lump on the ground in Summer's half of the array.

Suddenly he squeezed his eyes shut. For a second he was in the basement of the Elric farmhouse again, and that poor damned inside-out thing was gasping and reaching towards him. He bit his lip and looked again. It wasn't like he could just wait it out. He got to his feet.

He noticed Dorchet was slumped against the wall, breathing, but otherwise still. Ed stepped into Summer's side of the array. He could smell burnt cloth, and it started him coughing again. He could see her now. She didn't look burned, though her P.J.s were a little worse for wear. Other than that, she looked the same as before.

"Summer?" he asked between coughs. "Summer, are you okay?"

She twitched at the sound of her name. Her fingers clenched. She pushed herself up off the floor, shaking off charred bits of flannel. She raised her head and pinned Ed with her gaze. Her eyes were purple and the pupils were slit like a cat's, like Greed's.

"Summer?" he asked, freezing.

She smiled at him. Her teeth were sharp. He wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't move. Summer stretched, and then turned in a slow circle, taking in the room. Ed saw the alchemic symbol on her back was still glowing. It looked like her bones were crawling around inside of her skin, bulging as if they were about to burst out.

Dorchet groaned and rolled over, clutching his head. Summer looked at the chimera for a moment. Ed looked for the door. It seemed a good a time as any to run, but that stupid dog boy had to go and knock himself senseless.

Ed turned back and found Summer taking up his entire field of view. He tried to keep his eyes from crossing. He felt her breath on his face. It was obvious her teeth hadn't been brushed while she was…incapacitated.

"Summer?" he asked again.

She grabbed the sides of his face, and her thumbs dug in. She tilted his head from side to side, looking at his eyes from different angles.

_She's gonna' break my neck,_ Ed thought.

She pushed up on his jaw until he was looking at the ceiling.

"Summer?" he asked again, in a choked whisper.

She let go with one hand and her fingers slid along the side of his face and then down his neck. He winced as they came to rest on the scabby sore where the vampire had bit him.

"I remember," she said softly. "I'm here to kill."

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**Author's Note: **Sorry this chapter took so long. Insert lame excuse here

Please remember to review!


	28. Chapter 28

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**The Side Effects**

The whole world was red at first. And then it burned away and she was left in the dark.

Not quiet dark. She sensed them, one against the wall, not moving, the other coming towards her, calling out. The name echoed, but it wasn't hers. They were filled with red. It wasn't as bright as the red in her, but it stood out against the cold and pointless background.

The red came closer. Its insides moving faster, spinning through the center and then to the outsides, but two of the limbs had no red, the right arm, the left leg…that was familiar, that lack of symmetry was familiar, but it still lacked a name.

She realized she could know its name if she wanted, but it was like trying not to vomit. As the red glow faded away, the rest of the world constricted, forcing her back into that one form, trying to push everything inside out, to take away her clarity. She pushed it back. It wasn't important to know where she came from. Remembering too much would just confuse her.

She looked around, felt around. There was more red a few blocks away, hiding, but not so well. Hiding from other red, she decided. The one in front of her twitched, planned to flee. She grabbed ahold of it, the crippled one. She felt it shake, felt the red swirl around under its skin. It babbled out that name again and again. The wrong name.

She looked a little less deeply at the part outside the red. It was familiar. It was…injured. The injuries were old, but…she knew what caused them. Something had bitten it and tried to drain the red out. She found the name then, bubbling up in the back of her mind. The right name.

_**I am the Slayer.**_

"I remember," she told it. "I'm here to kill."

That was simple enough. It didn't take too much remembering. The instincts were right there. She could be that, and keep her clarity.

The thing she was holding went limp, not unconscious, but not able to stand. There was a thump as it hit the ground. She wandered away from it, to peer at the one still clutching its head. Two kinds of red in this one, human and dog.

"Boss?" it asked groggily.

The red faded and she saw a face, she recognized it, too, but the red was fading. She picked it up and shook it, but the red didn't come back. It just stayed there, out of sight, under the skin. She looked back at the other, still slumped and watching her. She walked back to it, dragging the two-blooded one with a careless hand.

"I need more," she said to the crippled one.

"More what?" it asked petulantly, even though it already knew.

"More red!" she said, bending down and grabbing it by the back of the neck so it couldn't turn away from her. "It's fading. I need more red."

"There isn't any more," it said. "The whole bag went in."

"Get me more!" she hissed, shaking it.

It didn't answer her, it just glared. She could tell it was afraid, but it wasn't lying. There wasn't any more, not the kind she wanted, anyway. She tossed it away in disgust and strode towards the door, belatedly releasing the two-blooded one she was dragging when it got caught on the doorframe.

"Summer, stop!" the crippled one yelled.

It followed her into the hall.

"Where are you going?" it demanded.

She watched it for a moment, and then decided she didn't have to answer. She turned toward the exit, but the walls around her flashed with blue light, and suddenly the doors were gone. The light faded. She could still sense exactly where it was, hear its heart hammering in its chest, and sense its head turning from side to side, trying to figure out where she was in the hall he'd trapped them both in.

"Are you Summer?" it asked. "Are you really Summer, or do you just look like her?"

She darted around behind it, but it hadn't noticed. It was still facing the wrong way. She leaned over its shoulder, her mouth almost touching its ear.

"I never was," she whispered.

It yelped and scrambled away, running right into a wall. It bounced back and toppled over, sprawling on the floor. It got up again, head darting from side to side. She thought it might've been trying to hear where she was. She picked up a pebble off the ground and tossed it at the far wall. It heard the sound and whirled.

This wasn't getting her the red she wanted, but it was still fun. Cat and mouse. Cat and mouse. She moved toward its unguarded back again. It thought it could trap her. She could just break down the walls it had created, but she felt she should prove to it that it was the mouse. She reached out and brushed the side of its face.

It didn't yelp this time, instead it lunged towards her. Its fist darted out, but went through empty space. She had already moved.

"So who are you, then?" it asked.

She leapt up, fingers clamping onto an exposed beam in the ceiling. She crawled along it until she was hanging directly above it.

"The Slayer," she said.

It turned in a circle, unable to find the source of the voice.

"Summer _was_ the Slayer," it said, pressing its hands together.

She couldn't argue with that.

She let go of the ceiling and dropped onto it.

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It was going just about as badly as he thought it would. Sure, he hadn't lost any limbs yet, but this thing that might or might not be Summer was stronger, faster, and even less sane than the original. The transmutation had only added energy, not changed the actual body. Could this be due to the damage sustained when Scar attacked? Or was the energy itself corrupting?

_Recharge her, right_, he thought. But those stones, if Summer was right about them, were made from other people's lives. Summer or not, he couldn't let her go on a rampage looking for more. She'd be a bigger threat than the vampires.

"Don't suppose you want to calm down and discuss this?" Ed asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

There was no answer.

_This is really bad, _he thought

Ed was pretty sure she was above him, so he kept up the act. Then he heard it, the faintest rustle of cloth. He dropped to his knees and slammed his hands down.

Blunt pillars of stone shot up around him and there was a thump and crack as something flesh and blood ran into them. Ed scrambled between the pillars, the light of the transmutation already fading. He considered trying to start a fire, but he'd closed off the hall completely, and that meant no air was coming in until he opened it up again.

He got free of the pillars and whirled, seeing her jump at him, unfazed by the recent collision. He saw a line of blood on her forehead, but it was shrinking away to nothing in a trail of purple sparks.

Wasn't that how she described the homunculi? Was she like Greed, then? Or like the others? The thing that wanted to break into the Hughes house and eat people? The thing that tried to drown the Colonel and Al?

_I can't let her out. I never should've done this. If she hurts anyone, it'll be my fault. I can do this, _he told himself, struggling to calm down. _Al and the Colonel caught one of those things, how hard could it be?_

He dropped low and punched upwards with his automail fist. There was a pop as a rib snapped, but he couldn't put enough force into the blow to stop her forward momentum and she went past in a controlled tumble. She lashed out with a knee that clipped his side, but he was already moving away.

Ed didn't hear her land, and the light from the reaction was completely gone, but he figured she was coming right back at him so he pressed his hands together and transmuted the floor again. A wall sprang up in front of him, and in the flash, he saw her barely a yard away. She leapt up over the wall and kicked down towards his head.

Ed kicked off the wall he was making and the half-completed reaction fell apart, but he managed not to get his skull cracked. She landed in front of him and her foot snapped up. This time he couldn't dodge. His arms came up to block, but her leg was much stronger than his arms and they were forced back.

His own automail slammed back into his face and lights flashed in his head as his nose snapped. He fell back.

Blood gushed down over his mouth and dripped off his chin. He started to get up but a second kick caught him in the belly and lifted him off the ground. A third got him in the ribs and he was knocked into a wall.

_Is she really trying to kill me?_

He gasped for air, lashing out with a foot to try and kick her, but there was a rush of air as she leapt over his leg. He pushed himself up, still gasping, and raised his arms in a guard. He touched his palms together, and the outer plating of his automail reformed into a blade. She'd backed up enough that he couldn't see her in the light of the reaction.

"Think that will help, little mouse?" her voice called from the dark.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING LITTLE?" Ed shouted, though raising his voice caused lightning pains to shoot through his broken nose up into his head. "THOSE STONES BROUGHT YOU BACK FROM THE DEAD; THEY DIDN'T MAKE YOU TALLER!"

A punch caught him in the side of the head and he went down, seeing more flashes.

_Knew this was a bad idea. Knew this was a bad idea. Knew this was a bad idea._

Sharp-fingered hands grabbed his shirt and dragged him upright, and then slammed him against a wall.

"Do you think I owe you, mouse?" she asked, pulling him away from the wall and slamming him back again. "If you haven't got any more red, then what good are you? You aren't one of us. Just one more bit of red, all spilled out on the ground, and the worms will get the rest."

She thumped him against the wall again. Ed's hands were still free and he pressed them together. He couldn't see her, but her voice was empty and mocking. This couldn't really be her anymore, could it?

"Summer, stop it," he warned.

"Make me," she said, laughter in her voice.

She leaned in towards him again and he slammed his palms into her chest. He hadn't really planned out his transmutation. The only thing going through his mind were the other freaks that had tried to kill him that week, and Scar leaning over him in the haze of the train station.

She was blown backwards in a shower of blood and purple light.

Ed's knees gave out and he slumped to the ground.

_Brought her back and killed her again. But they don't die that easy, right?_

He dragged himself upright and limped toward the body that was thrashing and glowing with purple light as it healed. He raised his bladed arm as he inched closer.

_What the hell do I do? Finish her off? Tie her up? What?_

"Boss!" He heard faint shouting through the wall he had sealed, Dorchet kicking and pounding on the transmuted concrete. The hall went dark and Ed froze. While his attention wandered, she'd stopped regenerating, and he was sure it wasn't because she had died.

He thought he heard something on the right and lashed out, but his blade went through empty space. He turned, straining to hear. Feet slammed against his shins and knocked his legs out of under him. He brought up his hands in time to avoid smashing his face into the floor. He rolled over and swept his legs around, but then a knee came down on his gut and hands caught his wrists, pinning them to the ground. He gagged but managed not to puke, but then she was leaning in close to his face and her dead-for-a-week breath was washing over him. He turned and retched, wondering in a foggy sort of way how he could smell anything with a busted nose.

"You're hurting my feelings, short stuff," she said.

Ed froze and turned back towards her. His eyes were wide and there was darkness all around, but he thought maybe he could see two faintly purple circles above him, her eyes glowing in the dark. He could still hear Dorchet pounding on the walls.

"Summer?" he asked.

"I'm the Slayer," she said again.

"Then why did you call me that? Summer called me that," he asked in a raspy voice, trying to push her off.

"Summer…one of my line. They die and I am reborn. Only I matter."

"You aren't reborn," Ed said. "You're transmuted. Summer, wake up!"

"You presume to give me orders? I am older than history. I am what the dark fears, mouse."

"And you can do no wrong?" Ed mocked. "Wake up, Summer! Snap out of it! This thing is gonna kill your friends and trash your city! Wake up!"

She clamped a hand over his mouth. She had to let go of one of his hands to do this, but even with one arm free, Ed couldn't pry her hand off. He tried to breathe through his nose, his whole head pounding in agony. He could feel blood getting sucked down the back of his throat, he had to cough; he shook but no air was getting in or out.

"No more squeaking, mouse."

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_The wrong name._ _The wrong name. The wrong name._

There was a small body, another living thing thrashing and dying under her hands.

_I'm the Slayer. It presumed. It got in my way. It refused me._

And there was another one calling to her. Another wrong name, but that one didn't challenge her, didn't presume. It was loyal. It was hers. This one though…

Its heart was slowing, the rabbit frenzy over, the body giving up, the red fading away without air.

_Weak little thing._ _Hardly a challenge. _

It had hurt her, for a moment. She had healed, though. She was stronger now. She didn't use to heal like that. Things like that would kill her and she would have to move to a new life, a new calling, a new chosen one. How did this happen? She knew it was because of that red…

The red was almost gone now, and the pressure was building. Words were bubbling up inside her head, running over the quiet and the instincts, filling her mind with unbearable shouted noise.

**_I'm the Slayer. I'm only the Slayer_- **

"-Ed knows a lot about alchemy. He could help you."

A voice echoed in her head. Another human, pathetic and weak…the one that took her in…gave her food…

Hughes…

Her mind rolled and new things flooded in, images, people, so many words…

She tried not to think about it, to stop it from coming in and taking over. It was better like this. There was no confusion. She fought and anything in her way was removed. It was better like this…

_**I'm the Slayer. They don't matter.**_

"-my big brother might know-"

"-keep it to yourself Al-"

"Summer? Are you alright? You're bleeding-"

"So you're the Scrap Demon?"

"Young lady-"

"Hey B, what's up?"

"Buffy? We could use a little help!"

"Take care of her-"

"You can't run from your calling. You are chosen-"

"Buffy, watch out!"

"We're going with you-"

All these people shouting in her head.

_**That's how you know who you are, they tell you who you are, don't listen…if I don't listen…**_

And then it was her own voice echoing in her ears…

"No dying, shorty. It's against the rules."

She let go and leapt back. Ed lay there unmoving. She shook him and he gasped for air, but didn't wake.

_**I'm the Slayer, I'm Buffy, I'm the Scrap Demon, I'm Summer…I'm too damn many people…**_

Dorchet's panicked voice finally came through. She picked up Ed and kicked a hole in the wall.

There was light in that other room and she saw the array on the floor and Dorchet a few yards away, arms thrown up to ward off bits of flying rubble.

"Boss, what happened?" he asked.

He had a cut on his forehead.

_**Where I dragged him into a doorframe.**_

She looked down at Ed. She knew she'd messed him up pretty bad, but in the light he looked much worse. There was blood all over his face, and his nose was all smushed. He was breathing, though.

"I…I tried to kill him," she said to the chimera as he came rushing towards her.

Dorchet looked at the limp teenager in her arms.

"Well…he is pretty annoying," Dorchet said in her defense.

They paused for a long awkward moment.

"What happened?" she asked.

"When?"

She looked around.

"Before now," she said. "How'd I get here? Why was everything red?"

"You went looking for the Alchemist killer, the guy with the scar on his face. Gabriel was supposed to be watching your back, but he screwed up. He and one of the Ishbalans you helped escape from the lab dragged you back to Shezka's with your brains turned to mush. Then the Fullmetal jerk there got back to Central, going on about a vampire invasion, and the killer went after him, and the military tried to pull some shit, and then he used the stones you got from Greed to fix you up," Dorchet concluded. "But you're fine now, right, Boss?"

She wanted a couple of days, just to clear all the junk from her head, to put things in order, but there was this new threat, this old threat… The undead were following her…even if she was one of them now.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

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Ed lay on the couch, looking up at the ceiling of Shezka's basement.

_What have I done?_ he wondered over and over again. Summer, if she was really Summer anymore was upstairs talking to the chimera and Al. Al was giving her the rundown on the vampires they'd fought in Southern. Ed probably could have added something to that conversation, but he didn't really feel like talking to Summer, or even looking at her. Al had asked what happened to his face. Dorchet said Summer had been disoriented and had flailed around when she woke up. Ed didn't bother to argue.

Dorchet was acting like there was nothing wrong, and maybe for him, there wasn't. The 'Boss' was back. The Boss was stronger than ever, probably able to go toe-to-toe with the homunculi now.

_Because she is one_

He rubbed at the bandages on his face. It wasn't like he could do anything. Summer had even apologized when he woke up on the way back from the warehouse.

"I'm sorry I went crazy and tried to kill you," she'd said.

_Yeah, that had made it all better. _

They couldn't take him to a military doctor until he got his report to the Fuhrer, and Jorn Fisher was passed out drunk when Summer went to ask his help, so Ed was stuck with Marta and Shezka setting his nose. Marta hadn't ever set a nose before, but Shezka assured him that she had read all about it, so a lot of tape and bent spoons and "I'm not crying, my eyes are watering" later, Ed was laid out and recovering. It was probably going to look horrible, not that he could really tell yet.

He groaned.

"Do you need more aspirin?" Shezka asked.

"No," Ed said, his voice muffled by his stuffed sinuses.

Ed didn't want to talk to her again after the torturous hours of setting his nose, but Summer had left the book girl to babysit him. Honestly, he'd rather have had Winry looking after him, but she was still catching up on sleep from the all-nighters she had pulled to adjust Ed's new automail. Of course, if Winry was helping him, he'd probably end up with an automail nose by the end of the day.

"So you were in a mental hospital?" Shezka asked out of the blue a minute later.

Ed nodded.

"So what was it like?" she asked.

"Why do you care?" he asked.

"Oh, it's just that I'll probably end up in one, you know, because of my problem, and I've read all about them, but I don't really know, you know?"

Ed scowled, but stopped when that made his face hurt. "It smelled like B.O. and pee. It was noisy. They kept giving me shots of god-knows-what, and the other patients were out to get me. It was annoying," he concluded.

"Annoying?" Shezka asked.

Ed nodded.

"In all the books they describe it as mind-bending and soul-crushing."

Ed shrugged. "Don't know what to say. Maybe it's cause I know I'm not crazy. And it was only for a week. Plus I knew I'd eventually escape."

"Oh," Shezka said.

"Why do you think you'll end up in the nut house?" Ed asked.

"Oh…um…you did see all the books when you came in, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So I can't stop collecting them, and eventually somebody is going to notice and I'm not useful enough for other people to call me eccentric and leave me alone."

"Maybe you can work in a library," Ed suggested, and then recalling she had been fired from the Alchemists' library amended, "A different library."

"I'd just get fired again," she said. "But maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I'd probably have time to read all the books before they kicked me out. I think that's why I got kicked out of the Alchemists' library. I ran out of things to read and it started driving me crazy."

"You ran out of things to read?" Ed asked.

"Yeah, I was there for almost a year. I read all the books, and then the files, and then there wasn't anything left to do."

"How fast do you read?"

"Oh, I usually go through a few dozen a day if I don't have anything else to do."

"And you remember what you read?"

"Of course."

"This book," Ed said, picking one up off the floor and flipping to a random page. "You remember what's in this book?"

"Oh, yes. That one's about soil conditions in the Drachman range."

"What did it have to say about…'the effects of late spring rainfall on the rate of erosion in the Eastern sloping catchments?'"

"Oh page 257! I liked that page. It had a chart. They said it increased the overall rate as well as increasing the soil acidity because of all the volcanic activity in the region. The first line of the chart represents rainfall for March, which was an average of 0.2 inches per day during the month-"

"Ok, stop!" Ed said.

"Sorry," Shezka said.

Ed snorted. "Why should you be sorry? That's freaking unbelievable."

Shezka stared at him.

"I'm not one to tell people to join the military, as they're a bunch of heartless bastards who're only interested in power, but you'd probably make a great spy."

"Hu?"

"You get into some other military's record room, look through all their files and then wander back over the border with all of it in your head? The higher-ups would probably kill to get someone like you working for them."

"Do you really think so?" she asked.

Ed nodded.

He was about to ask her if she'd read the Alchemy books in the high-security section even he wasn't allowed in, when Summer and the chimera returned.

"Alright!" Summer announced without really looking at Ed. "Here's the plan."

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**Author's note**: Sorry this took forever. I had trouble figuring out how to write a few scenes about the first Slayer possessing people. Also I started writing all of Ed's dialogue in the too many D's broken-nose fashion, but then it bugged the hell out of me as I reread it and I took it out. _By Dose id Boken._ Yeah, that drove me nuts. So just use your imagination for that, I guess. Next chapter should be out quicker, it's shorter and already pretty much done. Don't forget to review!


	29. Chapter 29

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**They Only Chase You if You Run**

She didn't know how to do it without making a scene, so she didn't bother to try. She made sure everything was in order, the buttons on her jacket done one off, the ponytail way too far to the left with a whole lot of straggly hair hanging free on the right side, the bewildered expression. She wandered into the flow of people heading for the Central security checkpoint, and made sure to bump into as many as possible.

"Private Summers?" someone shouted.

"huh?" she asked.

A minute later, she was seated inside the security office, wrapped in a blanket and spilling coffee everywhere.

"What the hell happened to you?" one demanded.

"I'm gonna' be late for work," Summer said as dazedly as possible.

"You've been missing for a week," a Lieutenant whose name tag she couldn't read said. "I don't think they're going to care."

"What happened?" the first guy said again.

"I think somebody hit me," Summer finally said.

"Hit you?" Lt. Bicks asked, sticking his head in the door.

"Yeah…I don't know," Summer said. "I've got…like a big blank spot. I woke up in some building, and some guys helped me walk home. My head is killing me."

"You've got a handprint on your forehead," a Lt. informed her.

"What happened to the Solar Alchemist?" Bicks asked.

"Ollie?" she asked, though it pained her to play dumb about this. "Is he missing or something?"

"He's dead, Summers," a private said. "And you're the one who's been missing."

"Hu?"

"Do you need a doctor?" another asked. "You're a real mess."

"I've called her C.O.!"

Corporal Sung was brought in, and ordered Summer be brought to the infirmary, before passing the buck along to her C.O. and returning to the typing pool. Summer frowned a little at that, but she had expected as much. She and a growing escort headed for the infirmary; with so many people grabbing her elbows to 'help' her along that she didn't even have to play up the clumsiness anymore, because she was tripping over them every other step.

She was ordered out of her uniform into a hospital gown, and she managed to get most of her escort thrown out of the room for that. The alchemic symbol on her back had been painted over in henna with a black cat. Shezka and Winry had helped her out with the stain the night before. (Dorchet had volunteered but been kicked out.)

The doctors they brought in noted the tattoo, but they didn't seem as interested in it as they did the handprint on her forehead. The regeneration with the stones hadn't fixed that completely, though every injury she'd received after seemed to heal up fine. She'd wanted to ask Ed about it, but she hadn't been able to work up the nerve. Maybe she would when his face had healed up and he wasn't glaring at her with two blackened eyes.

She sat through much poking and prodding before the doctors came to the conclusion that they had no idea what was going on. By that time a few Colonels, and even a General had arrived to find out what was going on. She hoped she was drawing enough attention to let Ed slip through a back door with his report. It would be much easier to deal with vampires than it would with Ed.

"The x-ray shows a soft spot on her skull in the shape of a hand," one of the doctors announced. "And it matches exactly the marks we've found on Scar's other victims. Additionally, she has bits of bone shrapnel throughout her body. It was probably blown off her skeleton during the deconstruction reaction. She should be in agony right now. I've no idea how she survived."

"Ollie must've done something," Summer said.

The doctors jumped a little as if they'd forgotten she was there.

"Maybe," one of them said, doubtfully.

She was about to say something else nice about Oliver. Even if, according to Gabriel, the alchemist had sort of frozen up after Scar had splattered her head, she had been using him as bait, and he deserved to get something, even if it wouldn't make up for her failing. But before she could speak, General Gran and his entourage walked in.

She wanted to snap something about knocking first, but kept her mouth closed. A lot was coming into play now, and she could deal with him later. He glared at her, and then asked the doctors about her condition. He seemed very upset when they said they didn't want her to leave the infirmary for at least 24 hours.

Since he couldn't drag her off for interrogation, he started in then and there. She made sure all of her answers were very unhelpful. The questions went on for half an hour, and then an aide stepped in as Gran's twitching eyelid and the veins bulging in his forehead told everyone in the room that the volatile alchemist was a few breaths away from smashing something.

"And you cannot account for your whereabouts at all during the past two weeks?" the aide asked.

"Sorry. I'm drawing a blank," Summer said.

"Do you recall what your assailant looked like?"

"Hmmmmmmmm, not really. I think he had a scar on his face, like a big X across his eyes."

"Anything else?"

"Uhhhh. I think he was wearing…a coat?"

"Well that'll break the case," someone at the back of the room muttered.

They went over the night of her attack again and again, but they couldn't wring anymore out of her, nor did she tell them much about her missing week. They demanded to know where her apartment was, as after she'd vanished they realized that information was missing from her file. She gave them the address of a hotel that would swear you'd lived there all your life if you paid them enough. Marta had handled that part of the situation that morning, moving some clothes and things to a room there, and in the guise of the Scrap Demon paying off and threatening the owner, before providing him with the story he'd have to tell later.

Finally even the interrogators got bored with repeating themselves, and the questions started to taper out. Before they called it a day, though, General Gran ordered everyone else, including the doctors, out of the room. They left hesitantly. Gran came to the side of her bed and loomed.

"I don't know what you think you've accomplished, but you won't escape again," Gran said.

She could feel the Slayer's instincts rising up. He'd kidnapped her from the hospital, and tried to take her to lab 5. Even then she'd been strong enough to escape. Now it would be so easy to snap Gran's neck. But that would create more problems than it would solve. They needed the military on their side if they were going to control a vampire takeover as big as Ed was describing.

"Recognized me, hu?" Summer said. "Took you long enough. But that's a little beside the point. You think I came in here just to run away again?"

Her eyes turned purple. "I think maybe I'll take over."

Gran didn't seem to think much of her statement, and was bringing up his fist when the door burst open again.

"Private Summers! You're alive!" Armstrong bellowed.

Even Gran was a bit stunned by the volume of the massive Major's entrance, and was forced to drop his threatening stance and move aside rather than be bowled over by the Strong-arm Alchemist, who was a bit larger than he, and appeared to be planning a hug.

Summer suppressed the urge to dive out the window. Fortunately a doctor, who had grabbed onto Armstrong's coat and was being dragged along behind, intervened before the Major could deliver the hug that was so clearly on his mind. The doctor then said something along the lines of 'be careful, she could drop dead at any second' which sent the giant major into further hysterics.

Gran scowled, growled something about self-control and decorum before striding out. Summer wasn't sad to see him go, but after a few minutes of Armstrong's speeches of relief at her being found, she was sort of wishing she'd ended up in mortal battle with the Iron-blood Alchemist instead.

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As plans went, this one wasn't great. Ed was supposed to sneak in and give his reports to the Fuhrer, convince him of the existence of vampires, and also assemble a large number of troops to deal with said vampires throughout the Southern region. Plus he had to get them to bring Summer along in some official capacity. He didn't see why she wanted to keep herself on the military's leash. Ed thought it would work out better if she just climbed on top of the train and followed wherever they were going, but she hadn't really listened to him. He supposed he could say the alchemist killer might come after her again.

Summer was leaving the chimera in charge of hunting for "Scar" as they were now calling the killer. Ed supposed the lab escapees could handle the job; they hadn't fought badly at the train station, according to Al, even if the killer did manage to escape.

Ed paused as he reached a dead end. He supposed he was out of under the main entrance hall by now. That meant it was time to go up. He transmuted a pillar from the floor and stepped up on top of it, and then clapped his hands and touched them to the ceiling. The reaction ate through to the floor above, and fortunately nobody fell through on top of him. He climbed through and looked around. He was in an empty office.

He hurried over to the door, and walked quickly through an empty hall.

He wondered again at Summer's final warning before he headed out that morning.

"The Fuhrer isn't human," she'd said. "He's like Envy and Lust. I don't know what he wants, but it probably isn't good."

"So what do you want? If you're one of them, shouldn't you know?" Ed had asked snidely.

She'd looked a little shocked, but that had been replaced by a glare.

"What I want is to tear screaming things into little pieces until all the noise in my head goes away. You better find me some vampires, short stuff, or I'll settle for closer targets."

He wondered if she meant him or the homunculi. He would've thought they were just as big a threat since they were, according to her, impossible to kill; but then again, homunculi were created by some unknown and probably complicated alchemy. Vampires just had to bite someone.

_And kill them_, Ed thought, rubbing at the scab on his neck.

Ed glared as he came to another dead end. The building was designed to keep unauthorized people out of the royal wing of the Central offices, but even a semi-competent alchemist could transmute his way through a few walls. Ed pressed his ear to the wall he intended to demolish, and winced as he leaned away with paint chips stuck to his face. He hadn't heard anyone talking on the other side, at least. He transmuted and hopped through, again not running into any guards. Maybe Summer's miraculous return was a better lure than he'd thought.

He passed a patrol of guards, but they didn't challenge him. A few gawked at his bruised face, though. He guessed that meant word of his commitment hadn't gotten around. It was just as well they didn't ask him for I.D. His State Alchemist's watch had been taken off him sometime between being drugged and pitched in the loony bin. That jack-ass Archer had probably opened it, too. He was going to beat that little toad into pulp the next time he saw him.

Ed thought he'd have some trouble getting into King Bradley's office, but for once he seemed to be having good luck. The Fuhrer and his security escort marched across the corridor ahead of him.

"Fuhrer President, Sir!" Ed called.

Fuhrer Bradley waved and his guards stopped. Ed bowed and then held up the reports he'd retyped.

"Ah, my dear Fullmetal Alchemist, I was under the impression you were in the hospital for…nerves, was it?"

"No sir," Ed said, frowning. "I had a concussion."

"I suppose that would explain the strange things General Gran and Colonel Archer reported you were saying, something about vampires?"

"Sir, they're real!" Ed said, still holding up the reports. "They've taken over a lot of Southern and I don't know how much of Eastern. I can't get through to Colonel Mustang, and-"

"When was your last psychological evaluation?" the Fuhrer asked.

"I had one right before I broke out of the mental hospital, sir," Ed said.

"Major Kelly, why don't you escort Fullmetal-"

"Sir, I'm not crazy. I don't know what you've been hearing out of Southern, but my brother and I just fought our way back up here, and there wasn't a town along the way that didn't have at least a few of them. They might be in the city already. You have to spread the warning! When's the last time anyone heard anything from the border stations that wasn't a rubber stamped business-as-usual report?"

"What happened to your face, Fullmetal?"

"I got kicked, sir. It doesn't matter. You have to listen. They're taking over-"

"You know there are penalties for going outside your chain of command," the Fuhrer said.

"Just read it, Sir," Ed said, almost begging. "'Cause whatever my penalty is, its nothing compared to what'll happen to all of us if they get to Central."

The Fuhrer stared at him for a long moment, his one eye empty of any human expression. He reached out and took the folder of reports from Ed's hand.

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Summer watched the blank walls as Armstrong continued to gush relief, describing to her the various states of bliss he was certain everyone would feel when they got the news.

She wondered if the people in…Sunnydale would've been this happy to get her back. She thought they probably would've been. But perhaps it would just be an everyday thing. People got out of their graves all the time on the hellmouth.

Maybe they would be nervous and snappy like Ed was, though she couldn't really blame him. They hadn't been the best of friends before she forgot he was human and tried to shut him up permanently in a fit of arrogance.

Their faces were much clearer now: her mother, Giles, Dawn, Xander, Willow and Angel. She could remember whole conversations now, days of fighting as well as days spent idle at the mall or in front of the T.V. She remembered the fighting and carnage and losses and laughter. She remembered the end now, too.

Or at least she thought she did. The tower, and Dawn, crying because she knew she had to die to save the rest of them, but she was just a dumb kid and couldn't help admitting not wanting to.

As this bubbled up inside Summer's mind it made her chest ache, but it didn't seem like her own pain. It was like watching a movie in sepia tones. The dramatics got to her, but it wasn't really her diving into that light in her sister's place. It was just a story with a sad ending.

She wondered how she'd ended up here, now that she was sure here and there were not the same place. She supposed she could've tumbled out into another dimension; after all, Glory's ceremony punched holes into a few dozen other worlds before it was…stopped.

But that didn't explain why she was alive. Maybe the reaction only stopped her heart for a minute or two, like the time she died fighting the Master. That didn't explain the alchemic tattoo or the obvious increase in speed, strength, and recovery, though. That was probably a mystery only Ed or one of the homunculi could solve.

Summer sighed. Maybe she could get Hughes to ask for her. It wasn't like he didn't have more than enough problems of his own, with the homunculi harrying his family. And Summer knew she was the one who'd brought all that down on him.

Apparently Armstrong thought the sighing had something to do with him, as he stopped speaking for a moment to nod sadly.

"It is truly a tragedy. He struck just yesterday," Armstrong said. "And I found myself the target. I may not have seen him in time, despite my special training in situational awareness, a skill passed down through the Armstrong family for generations-"

"The point, Major?" Summer asked.

"Ah, yes, a friend of yours, Elem, I believe, attempted to stop the killer. Unfortunately he was not well trained in combat and lost his leg, but he gave me enough warning to turn the tables on that rogue. It was a most blood-boiling battle-"

Summer was a bit surprised to hear the Ishbalan had ended up back in the fight. All the chimera were sure he'd gone back to the camps after they made it clear they were going to be messing with alchemy.

"-but the killer got away," Summer concluded for him.

Armstrong slumped as she skipped over all the good parts.

"What about Elem?" she asked.

"His right leg had to be amputated. Too much tissue had been destroyed by that villain's alchemy, and he'd have bled to death otherwise. But fear not! He was stabilized at the military hospital and has been given into my custody. Even now he is convalescing under the care of my most talented younger sister!"

"You have a sister?" Summer asked.

"3 sisters in fact, though only one lives in Central," Armstrong declared. "You should come and meet her. I believe you would get along splendidly! In fact, once this villainous murderer has been apprehended, I, if I may be so bold, would be honored if you-"

"WHAT THE F!?K DO YOU MEAN WE'RE ALL GOING TO EASTERN?" Ed's wondrously grating voice demanded. "WE HAVE TO GO TO SOUTHERN! THEY'RE IN SOUTHERN!"

"Ed, for the love of God, quiet down!" Hughes said as he dragged Ed into the infirmary.

"Ah!" Ed said, jumping in surprise as Armstrong whirled towards him.

"Such language is not appropriate in front of a lady!" Armstrong announced.

"What language?" Ed demanded with a scowl.

"I think he means F!?K," Summer said cheerfully. "So how goes it, short stuff?"

"Is everybody here on the level?" Ed asked.

Summer nodded. Hughes nodded. Armstrong looked confused.

"I got my report to the Fuhrer, but he didn't believe me except he said he knew I wasn't lying, so I don't know what that means. Anyway, the idiots are planning to ship the entire State Alchemist research project out to Eastern Command until they can guarantee security in Central. They said they'd send an "investigatory team" down to Southern to check my story. They might as well send them in a lunchbox instead of a box car. They wouldn't even begin to listen about the stakes."

"Stakes?" Armstrong asked.

"For killing vampires," Summer said.

"There's no such thing as vampires," Armstrong said.

"Unfortunately," Ed said, "You won't believe that for long."

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"This is taking forever!" Winry complained.

Al just nodded and shifted the suitcase by his feet. He was supposed to escort Winry back to Resembool, and then go meet Ed and hopefully the rest of the military down in Southern, but somebody had put a hold on all outbound trains for the day.

They'd been on their way back to Shezka's when Winry spotted the tail. Al didn't know if it was just a military spy or that shapeshifter, but they couldn't risk leading them back to their base. They'd gone to a café across from the Central offices instead, hoping to catch up to Ed before he theoretically shipped out.

Al looked down at his cup of tea and plate of cookies. He really hated it when food went to waste, but he hated sitting in restaurants and not buying anything.

He saw a teenage girl and younger boy at a table to the right of him. The boy had sunglasses on, but Al could tell he was being stared at. Al handed the cookies he could not eat over to him. The boy grinned, showing off sharp teeth, and then started wolfing them down.

"Thanks, Mister," said the girl the boy was sitting with. "But he really doesn't need the sugar."

The boy opened his mouth to show the girl the chewed cookies.

"You're going to get fat, you brat," she warned.

"Fat brat! Fat brat!" he chanted, stuffing in more cookies. "Dawn is a fat brat!" he concluded.

The girl buried her face in her hands. "For the sake of your sanity, never baby-sit," she warned Al.

He nodded. The afternoon dragged on and he and Winry ordered another pot of tea and plate of cookies. Winry had to drink all the tea, so she was running back and forth to the bathroom. Still, they'd only seen one group of soldiers leave Central, and that was just a regular patrol-sized group, not a going-to-save-the-nation-from-the-armies-of-the-undead-sized group.

"We should just go in and look for him," Winry said. "What would they arrest us for?"

"How about conspiracy against the State?" a voice called out suddenly.

They turned to see a large number of military police swarming out through the café's kitchen. The man who'd spoken was wearing a colonel's uniform and a sneer.

"Conspiracy to do what?" Winry demanded shrilly.

"I haven't decided yet," the colonel said. "I'm sure the charges will stick, regardless."

"You must be Archer," Al said, standing and knocking over his chair.

"Are you going to make a scene, Elric?" Archer asked. "There are a lot of people in here who could get hurt."

"Hmf!" Al said, crossing his arms. "It doesn't matter, anyway. My brother has already gone to talk to the Fuhrer. You probably won't even have a job by the end of the day."

"What's he going to say?" Archer asked. "More raving about 'vampires' in Southern? He'll be back in the nut house by the end of the day."

They allowed themselves to be marched out of the café and across the street, though Al was slow about it, and drew as much attention as possible. Archer was obviously annoyed by this, but when three hundred pounds of armor drags its feet, there isn't much one skinny Colonel can do about it. Al figured he'd bought them enough time when a familiar voice called out.

"Oh good! You found them!" Hughes shouted cheerfully as he hobbled down the steps, 2nd Lt. Ross trailing behind him.

Al felt a surge of hope.

"The Fuhrer wants to check something with you before we head for the train station."

Al wondered if his brother managed to get a message to Hughes about them getting Winry home.

"And Winry! When did you get into town? You haven't seen the latest pictures of Elicia yet!"

"Lt. Colonel Hughes," Archer growled. "These two are in my custody."

"Well, I'd hate to pull rank," Hughes said with strained cheer, "but orders from the Fuhrer are just a teensy bit more important than orders from a Colonel."

Archer's jaw clenched, but he waved the MP's toward the royal offices, and Al and Winry went along with them.

"You'll regret this," Archer growled as he and Hughes turned to follow the group.

"Doubt it," Hughes said.

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**The Town of Delphia, Southern Area…**

The town looked abandoned. Doors hung open, some slamming and bouncing in the wind. There were broken windows, smeared with blood, long faded to a brownish rust color. He thought the color went nicely with the orange glow of sunset.

Envy dropped his disguise; the tall man in a Major's uniform melting away into a teenager in a tank top and shorts. His bare feet kicked up dust as he strolled up the block to inspect an overturned car. There was a dead body in it, still belted I, on the passenger side. Insects had found the dead man, at least a few days before, but Envy could still see where his throat had been torn open, by human-sized teeth.

A whine from up the street drew his attention. Gluttony was snuffling around the abandoned general store, circling like a dog that couldn't decide where to lie down.

"What?" Envy called.

"All gone!" Gluttony said. "All the good things to eat are gone."

"Where have they gone?" Envy asked. "There aren't enough corpses around."

"Yes there are," Gluttony said. "All corpses, all dead already. Who wants to eat that? Oh, I do, but not as much. Too squishy, not enough crunch-"

"Shut up! Envy shouted. "Where are they?"

"Under," Gluttony said.

"Buried?" Envy asked. It didn't look disturbed, but hiding bodies with alchemy was no big deal.

"Uh-uh," Gluttony said, shaking his head.

"Then where?" Envy growled in frustration.

"Under the houses."

Envy frowned. He'd searched a few buildings at random, but the dead guy in the car was the first one he'd found. He'd have been able to smell bodies in crawlspaces even without Gluttony's senses.

"Where?" Envy asked.

"Everywhere," Gluttony said.

Envy ground his teeth.

"That building?" he asked, pointing. "Are there corpses under that building?"

"Uh-hu."

"Show me," he ordered.

Gluttony lumbered to the house, shouldering through the front door as if it were made out of paper. The corpulent homunculus circled the living room once and then punched down through the floor. He pried away a couple of planks.

"There," he said pointing.

Envy leaned over and looked in. There were indeed bodies under the floor. The sun was fading, so he flicked on the lights, a bit surprised that the power was still on. The corpses were unharmed as far as he could see, though their clothes were pretty dirty at the knees and elbows, as if they had crawled under the house before expiring.

"Maybe they're still crunchy," Gluttony said, grabbing one, a man in farmer's coveralls, and pulling him up through the hole.

The corpse's eyes popped open.

Envy was a bit startled, as he was sure nobody in that hole had been breathing, but suddenly the dead farmer got even livelier; kicking and cursing and demanding to be put down. More of the corpses were moving now, too. Envy could see them rolling over and getting up, as if from sleep.

Envy held up a hand, stopping Gluttony before he could eat…whatever it was he had found.

"What the hell are you?" Envy asked the farmer.

The undead man glared at him. "We are legion! The inheritors of the Earth!"

As he spoke, the farmer's eyes turned yellow and his face contorted. Fangs sprouted from his mouth. He bit Gluttony's hand.

"That hurt a little," Gluttony complained, before chomping down, biting off the dead man's head.

Gluttony grinned for a moment with the collar of the farmer's shirt still stick out between his teeth. Then the farmer's body exploded in a cloud of ash. Gluttony whined and coughed, and Envy supposed the bits the homunculus had in his mouth had vaporized as well.

"Well, that's weird," Envy said.

He grabbed another of the moving corpses, a woman who was crawling out of the floor. Her face had already warped. She struggled, punching him a lot harder than a human that size should've been able to. He almost dropped her in surprise. Almost. Instead, he pulled her arm out of the socket. She hissed like a cat and tried to bite him, but he caught her by the throat.

"What are you?" he asked.

"Our master will avenge us!" she hissed.

He snapped her neck and was about to toss her aside, when he realized that she wasn't any…deader. Her arms and legs weren't moving, but she was still trying to bite him. He pulled her head all the way off and she turned to dust.

"I guess the Fullmetal pipsqueak was telling the truth," Envy said. "They are vampires."

He looked out the nearest window, and saw more of the creatures crawling out of under every building in view.

Gluttony let out a horrified whine.

"Vampires taste bad!"

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**Author's note:** Don't forget to review!


	30. Chapter 30

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Into the Valley** **of Death**

**Central…**

Marta really wanted to pull on Dorchet's ears. The dog soldier had been insufferably smug the last few days, since 'the Boss' had come back from the dead. Summer had gone off with the rest of military command, without another word to them, though Marta understood that it would be difficult for her to get a message back to the fugitive chimera.

She wished their instructions had been a little more thorough than "fight crime, try to catch Scar, don't get caught by the homunculi or the State, and watch out for vampires". Vampires? Where the hell had they come from? Marta wasn't an old woman, but she wasn't young either. She'd been to weird places and seen just about everything this screwed up world had to offer, and she'd never seen a vampire, nor heard of one outside a fairy tale. Rather convenient that they had a Vampire Slayer all ready to deal with them.

Summer knew more than she told them. That much was obvious.

Marta's mind wandered back to the girl and the child like homunculi she'd seen the previous week. She'd considered mentioning them to Summer, or at least saying "Do you happen to know anyone named Buffy?" to see how she reacted. But the words never did come out. It wasn't like people weren't always saying weird things to Marta when she was wearing that crazy Scrap Demon costume. Some people shouted that she was a long lost relative. One man even claimed to be her husband. Of course none of those people had a homunculus with them.

"I'm going out," Marta said.

"It's the middle of the day," Loa pointed out.

"Thanks for the update," she said.

Dorchet grumbled and gave her funny looks, but no one tried to stop her as she dug through Shezka's closet for a long sleeved shirt with a high collar, and a scarf to cover as much of her tattoo as possible.

The streets were busy, as if nobody really cared all the alchemists had left. The normal people were probably glad to see them go. Marta's feet took her toward the hotel where she'd tracked the girl and the homunculi the night they met. If those two had any brains they'd have found new lodgings, but from what Marta saw neither the creature nor its human babysitter were particularly clever.

Marta pulled open the door and crossed the short lobby to the clerk's desk. There was a woman in line ahead of her, wearing a long coat with a fur collar. The woman had long dark curly hair. She gestured at something on the clerk's desk, and Marta saw she had green gloves over sharply pointed fingers.

Marta took a step back, and then another.

She couldn't turn her back and run, but if she could get to the door before the homunculi turned…

"We still got rooms," the clerk said, looking over the homunculi's shoulder at Marta as she back pedaled. "I'll set you up when I'm done with her."

Lust turned to look at her. The homunculi's eyebrow went up and then she smiled.

"Oh, you're done with me," she said to the clerk.

Two of her fingers shot out and pierced the man's neck. He gargled, clamping his hands over the gushing wounds as he staggered back. Lust pulled her fingers free, and lunged at Marta, who was throwing herself at the door. It slammed open and Marta tumbled backward down the stairs, rolling and bending under Lust's claws as they stretched out. People on the street screamed, but stopped to watch instead of fleeing; the broad daylight giving them an inaccurate sense of security.

Marta ran straight down the middle of the street, dodging between cars or running up over them if they stopped in her path. She could see Lust coming up behind her, reflected in the windshields of oncoming traffic. Marta pulled off her scarf, wrapping it around her right arm, hoping she could blunt the homunculi's claws a bit if she had to try and block them. She didn't really expect it to work. She'd seen Lust slice through steal with those things after all, but Marta knew to survive you had to take all the steps, whether you thought you'd win or not.

The claws slashed at her legs and she leapt up, her right arm stretching out to catch the tailgate of a truck. She pulled herself forward in time to avoid the claws lashing out from Lust's other hand. The truck driver saw the two not quite human women in his rear view mirror and put the pedal to the medal. Marta pulled herself into the bed of the truck and ducked down. Lust lashed out again, but her claws came up at least a meter short of the truck's bumper.

Whether Lust couldn't keep up, or was just too lazy to keep chasing her, Marta didn't know, but the Homunculi gave up running and stood watching Marta as they put one block and then another between them. Marta sighed with relief, but then the truck started to slow down. She looked at the driver, who was stopping at a traffic light, at a completely empty intersection.

"What the hell?" Marta shouted, banging on the roof. "Drive, you idiot!"

Lust, seeing that the truck had stopped, started running after her again.

"Drive! Go!" Marta shouted.

"But it's a red light," the driver said, leaning out of the truck's cab to look at her.

Marta cursed again, leapt from the truck, and shoved herself down a storm drain at the side of the road. She had to dislocate her shoulders to get through, but she slithered into the narrow space and was scrambling around a bend in the drain pipe long before Lust's claws stabbed through the rusty iron. Marta was sure she could hear that freak laughing at her as she stuffed herself through another junction in the pipes, into the main swear line.

An hour later, Marta climbed out of an overflow channel by the river, covered in filth. She thought about circling back to the hotel, but decided against it. If the girl and her homunculi weren't out of there by now, they probably never would be. She looked down at herself and decided she was very glad snakes didn't smell things the way mammals did. Dogs however... She decided she was going to sit very close to Dorchet when she got back to the hide out and made her report. She started trudging towards Shezka's house.

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**The Eastern Express Line…**

Ed watched Summer as she gazed out the window. Every few minutes he'd think he caught a flash of inhuman purple in her green eyes. He'd tell himself it was a trick of the light, or that it didn't matter anyway, because they hadn't had a choice.

"How much longer?" Winry complained, shifting in her seat and mumbling something about her butt going numb.

Ed sighed and looked away.

"It will be after dark," Summer said, suddenly.

Everyone else in the compartment jumped.

"Long after dark," she added.

The car tilted as the engine began an uphill climb. There were few mountains in Eastern, but enough low hills and valleys to keep things geologically interesting. Ed glared at the surrounding country side. He had tried to convince them to let Al and Winry off at the Bellville station. From there it wouldn't be hard to catch a train looping back towards Resembool, but the Engineer said they weren't stopping there, and the Fuhrer wouldn't even hear out his request.

Ed supposed Winry and Al could have jumped when they were going through the grasslands below Bellville, but Winry's stuff was still in the cargo car, and she'd be mad as hell if she had to leave without it. Plus there was a chance the security officers would take a shot at her. The men reported to Gran after all.

The four of them sat in awkward silence until the door to their compartment slid open and Hughes shuffled in. He was the only one with clearance to wander the train at will. Winry, Ed, Al, and Summer had been confined to one compartment 'for their safety', though Ed was pretty sure it was to keep him from hunting down Colonel Archer and beating him into paste.

Come to think of it, Ed wasn't even sure if that bastard was on this train. They'd been rushed straight to the station from Central HQ, without even a chance to pack. He supposed Summer could borrow clothes from Winry, the only one to have a suit case with them. But now matter how much of a tomboy Winry was at times, Ed knew she didn't have spare boxers with her.

"They called ahead again, and no one's reporting a problem," Hughes said, settling stiffly on the bench next to Summer.

"Did you talk to Mustang?" Ed asked.

"They said he was unavailable. Apparently he's dealing with the 'chimera' situation you brought to their attention."

"They weren't chimera," Ed and Al said together.

"I believe you," Hughes said, slumping. "But no one else will believe other wise without proof."

"Try calling a civilian in Eastern," Summer said. "Call anyone."

"They won't forward to anything other than military lines," Hughes said.

The car tilted down and suddenly they were all in shadow. Winry squeaked and raised her wrench, but there was nothing to hit. The train rattled and orange light spilled in through the windows again. All but Summer resettled themselves nervously as night rolled closer.

Ed was dozing against Al's armored side when a hand clamped over his mouth. The lights in their compartment were out, but the smell of oil and metal shavings told him it was Winry's hand that kept him from shouting.

"She saw something," Winry hissed.

Ed looked out the dark window, but could just barely make out the silhouette of Summer pressed to the glass. He tried to follow her gaze, but saw only a whirling darkness with stars high above as the train rattled through a valley.

"Ten of them, with pry bars," Summer said. "They're taking up the tracks after us. Somewhere up ahead they're probably already gone."

_Great, a train wreck is all we need_, Ed thought bitterly. Well at least there'd be proof he wasn't lying and or insane, if they weren't turned into hamburger first. He looked around and saw that Hughes had left.

"Should we tell the engineer?" Winry asked.

"They won't listen," Summer said.

"Al," Ed ordered as he pulled Winry's hand aside. "Open up," he said, rapping on his brother's chest plate.

Al obeyed. "Winry, get in," Ed ordered.

"I can take care of myself," the mechanic hissed, raising her wrench.

"That won't help against vampires," Ed growled, pushing the chunk of metal aside. "Plus nobody listens, so they'll probably start shooting every which way if anything happens, and nothing short of a fifty cal is going to punch through Al, so quit worrying and get in."

Winry was raising the wrench again when the train began to break and a high metallic shriek filled the car.

"Damn it!" Ed growled. "In! Now!"

"You get in too," Winry said, suddenly grabbing him with her free hand. "You aren't bullet proof either!"

"Both of us won't fit," Ed said.

Winry only clung to him tighter. Ed looked around for help, but Summer just peered out the window and Al fiddled with the chest plate in his hands. He wondered what he should say.

"Don't worry," Ed strained out. "I'm…pretty…short…the bullets will probably fly right over my head."

Winry crumpled completely when he said that. She started crying in earnest, and her wrench dropped to the floor of the car. She was acting like the world was coming to an end. The joke wasn't that bad was it?

"Let me fight too," she said, crushing him against her. "I don't want to be the only one left!"

"Al can take care of both of you," Ed said, trying to untangle himself as the train lurched and more break was brought into play. They all wobbled to keep their balance. "Besides, you have to be nice and healthy so you can fix up my automail after the fight."

SMACK!

Ed glared and rubbed the top of his head. Winry was glaring back at him, but at least she wasn't crying anymore.

"Edward Elric you better not break my automail again!" she growled, all traces of hysterics gone.

Winry let go of him and crawled into Al's armor, as Rose had a few weeks before, in Leore. _Was it only a few weeks? _Ed wondered. It felt like years. Winry curled up sideways in a ball so she wouldn't get in the way of Al's legs. Ed handed her her wrench and then helped Al fit his chest plate back into place.

The train settled completely, and the squeal of breaks died away. Ed went to Summer's side and peered out the window. He saw something move in the dark.

"How many?" he whispered to her.

"I can see fifty," Summer murmured. "I can feel maybe two hundred others, further back, and on the other side of the train too. I'm going to go talk to the Fuhrer. He might be just as bad, but I think we're on the same side at the moment. You three go find Hughes and don't let anyone get off the train."

Summer opened the door of their compartment. There was a guard outside "for their safety" but Summer grabbed him by the front of his coat and slammed him into the wall. As he slumped, she headed for the royal car and the three from Resembool went for the radio car, where Hughes was probably hanging out. Out side the walking dead prepared to increase their number.

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The Fuhrer watched the creatures dashing back and forth in the dark. In his car, his human servants scuttled about calling for help and trying to plan their next move. One of the creatures came near the train, not entering the yellow rectangles of light that spilled from the windows, but near enough for the homunculi's eye to pick out its every detail.

The Vampire was as Fullmetal described it, a washed out complexion with yellow eyes and a bulging lumpy brow, as if the skull were trying to push out through the skin. Its mouth hung open in a hungry leer, exposing fangs that wouldn't have allowed it to close anyway. At first he thought it could have been a chimera, but as he watched the creature, he saw it drew no breath and no pulse carried blood through the veins in its neck.

A Lieutenant came with a report. The tracks ahead were missing and the engineers wanted to get out and inspect, but the Fuhrer told him to wait and lock down the train. The homunculi waited, calm in the panicked human storm. He listened for the click clack of high heeled shoes, which came almost immediately.

"All of you," the Fuhrer ordered. "Move to the next compartment and send Private Summers in."

There was a confused pause, followed by an unusually polite knock on the door. His servants scrambled to obey. When they were alone, ( Armstrong was the last to leave) Summer's stance went from vapid secretary to predator.

"Are you gonna' listen?" she asked.

"My dear Ms Summers-" he started.

"Cut the crap Bradley. Neither one of us is human, and we don't have the time. You've got nearly 300 vamps out there, planning to eat your alchemist brain trust. Neither one of us wants that to happen for completely opposite reasons. So are we working together, or am I grabbing the couple dozen humans I can watch on my own while the rest go for dinner?"

The Fuhrer scowled, but his fury didn't faze her.

"From Fullmetal's report I gather that decapitation and sunlight are the only way to kill them, though that is a bit hard to believe," the Fuhrer said.

"Right Mr. Undead," Summer said rolling her eyes. "First of all, a wooden stake through the heart is the major way to off a vampire, though decapitation and sun work as well if you can bring them into play. A big bunch of fire will also do the trick."

"Small arms fire?" the Fuhrer asked.

"Bullets only piss them off," Summer said. "If you're a great shot, taking out sensory organs will slow them down, but usually they're moving too fast for a good shot. Crossbows are useful, but I think the military neglected to pack any."

The Fuhrer looked over his tented fingers at her. She didn't seem the least bit afraid of the things that surrounded the train. In fact her slightly manic behavior reminded him a bit of Gluttony when he was told he could feed soon, but not quiet yet.

"Why haven't they attacked?" the Fuhrer asked.

"They didn't run the train off the tracks either," she said. "That probably means they want to capture and turn some particular passengers."

"We didn't tell Eastern all the Alchemists were coming," he pointed out.

"But you're on the train, and they don't know you're already **so** over the mortal life thing," she said.

"So what do you propose?" he asked.

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They'd been waiting for half an hour. Their leader, Clarence, had said they could pick off any stragglers, anyone who left the train to inspect the tracks or stretch their legs, but no one had even stuck their head out the window. Within ten minutes of stopping, the humans on the train had pulled the shades on every window and cut the lights. They could hear the humans checking their guns and whispering, afraid, but not yet panicked enough to run.

They looked to Clarence, the one the master had put in charge of this raid. They were to take the train, car by car and find and turn any high-ranking officials. The rest they could eat. They'd been waiting for the train for a whole night and day before, and that was after the walk out. They were very hungry, but no one wanted to risk their Master's wrath by jumping the gun. Everyone had heard what happened to Greg.

"There," someone hissed.

A small woman was climbing down off the train. She stumbled a bit as her high heels met the gravel. After a few unsteady steps, she bent, removed the shoes, and put them on the running board of the train. She had something tucked under her arm. A long tube wrapped in a cloth. It may have been a riffle, and though they could see effortlessly through the dark, seeing through cloth wasn't one of their talents. They heard her foot steps as she walked toward the engine, and then past it, out of sight. A woman, alone in the night was just too much to pass up. Clarence waved a handful of his charges forward and they darted after her.

There was no scream. Clarence nodded to himself. At least his minions were somewhat competent. He ground his teeth a bit. Their master had meant for the fledgling Havoc to run this operation, but the new vampire had run off on his own. Clarence hoped he'd be there to see it when the Master caught him and punished him.

Clarence looked back towards the front of the train again. None of those who'd chased the woman had returned. He frowned, hoping they hadn't stopped to play with their food first, or worse, moved onto the train without him. If they killed the Fuhrer before he could be turned, their master would torch every last one of them. He was about to give the order to attack when bizarre fortune seemed to strike.

The Fuhrer President King Bradley was climbing off the train.

Clarence wondered how they should go about their attack. The man was tall and broad shouldered, but they could see lines of age on his face, and he was short one eye to boot. He wasn't carrying a gun, but much to their surprise, had five swords in an oddly configured rig of sheaths hanging from his back.

"What's he think he can do with those?" one of his charges snickered from his hiding place near the engine.

"Kill you, of course," Bradley said, though he couldn't possibly have heard.

The vampires nearest him flinched in surprise and the human's expression changed from bland to furious in a blink. And then he was running towards them. He had a sword in each hand without them ever seeing him draw the blades. The vampire who had spoken exploded into ash. Without pause the Fuhrer charged towards another target.

"Holy shit! He's fast!" one of them declared.

Clarence growled in annoyance. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"ATTACK!" he bellowed.

He heard hissing responses as the charge began on the opposite side of the train as well, but not as many responses as he expected. He led the vampires towards the train, giving the Fuhrer a wide berth as a dozen of his less than clever minions charged towards their stronger than expected target. He was almost to the forward car when he saw blue light flowing along the sides of the car. As he watched, the doors and windows sealed themselves up in a storm of alchemic light. One of his minions managed to get to a door before it vanished. The vampire ripped it open.

A rather bewildered human in a blue uniform lunged through the suddenly opened door, and drove a stake through the vampire's chest. The human and his would-be attacker looked equally surprised as the vampire exploded into dust. The human was pulled back inside by other uniformed men, and the door healed itself, vanishing into the now blank surface of the train car.

The charging vampires faltered in confusion.

"Tear them open!" Clarence ordered.

Even as the vampires clawed at the outsides of the box cars, spikes formed from the wood, jutting out in random places. Though most of spikes didn't hit a vampire right in the heart, many were injured and they fell back in confusion.

"Is everyone on this damn train an alchemist?" one of his minions demanded.

"I'm not!" called a cheerful female voice.

Clarence turned as the vampire next to him was decapitated by sword slash. The woman who'd first left the train was behind him. He threw himself out of the way as woman leapt towards him, and another of his minions made the mistake of charging her, inadvertently saving him.

He ran from the woman, back towards the hills he'd hidden during the previous day. He didn't have much time to think, but he realized she must be the Slayer their Master had been searching for, the one the vampires from the other world feared. He left the minions behind. If he told the Master about this, maybe he'd be spared.

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Ed crouched down, listening. He tried to ignore the frightened men all around him; their harsh breathing and the sound of shifting feet, and knees and elbows bumping walls. _Stay still and shut up_, they weren't difficult instructions to follow, and yet the other State Alchemists couldn't seem to comply.

Ed could hear shouting, growling, and shrieks from outside as Summer tore into the vampires. It was possible the Fuhrer was out there too, but the orders had come back from the royal car, expressly forbidding them from sticking their heads outside to have a peek. What was the Fuhrer doing that he didn't want them to see?

Ed wondered how Summer had convinced the Fuhrer to let her take the lead. Ed supposed it gave credence to her story that Fuhrer Bradley was another member of the inhuman killers' club. Ed just hoped Summer hadn't switched sides or something. Maybe the Fuhrer had just let her go out because he thought she would die. He really wished he knew what they'd gotten themselves into.

He also wished they'd let him out to fight. He knew how to fight vampires. He was pretty sure he was the second most experienced vampire fighter on the train, but besides making the cars randomly spiky and completely sealed, the Alchemists hadn't been allowed to do much in their own defense. Ed crouched down further, pressing his ear to the wooden floor of the car. There was definitely something scratching on it from the outside. He sort of hoped it would try to get in. He was in a really bad mood.

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Summer didn't bother trying to suppress the predatory grin that played across her face every time a new target came in sight. She used a slide tackle to take down a fleeing vamp, and chopped his head off, kicking through the cloud of ash as she untangled her legs. She extended her extra senses, searching for more. The charge had broken up for the most part, and the vampires were fleeing or trying to hide.

She felt one climbing along the bottom of one of the cars, and heard the screech and creak as it pried off a board, trying to get in. She was about to climb under the car after it when a bladed automail arm came down through the space, slicing the vampire's head clean off.

"Nice one, Short stuff!" Summer called.

A string of Ed's cursing echoed out of under the train, but was cut off as alchemy sealed the breach.

Summer grinned and took off after another fleeing vamp. This was so easy! She's dusted so many of them and the only thing she'd injured were her clothes. It hadn't been like this before. It hadn't been so fun! She found herself laughing as she sliced the head off another one.

A little voice in her head was telling her not to get to cocky, because there were probably a thousand more where these came from, but she pushed it down. She hoped this night would just stretch on forever. She knew exactly what to do. There was no conflict between the Slayer part of her and all the other parts. But minutes passed, and most of the vampires had fled, scattering in every direction. She had to follow, but she should probably make sure the humans weren't going to do anything stupid when she left them unsupervised. She had to make sure the Fuhrer wasn't gong to pull anything either. She stretched out her senses for Bradley and found him on the other side of the train. She hopped to the top of the nearest car and dropped down next to him.

"Hey Bradley-"

His arm blurred towards her.

CLANG!

"Watch out Sir," Summer growled as she held off the Fuhrer's sword with her own. "You almost had an unfortunate accident."

The Fuhrer withdrew, but made no attempt (for appearances sake or otherwise) to apologize for trying to decapitate her.

"What do you have to report, Private Summers?" he asked blandly.

She took a few steps back before redirecting her attention to other parts of the battle field.

"Maybe sixty left," she said, turning in a circle. "Most are running for it, but we've still got a dozen or so hunkered down in this valley. They're probably going to try to pick off stragglers even though they know they can't take the train. They're too hungry to leave. If you keep your guard up you'll probably be able to pick them off when they move. I'd wait till sun up to go out and fix the tracks though."

"And what will you be doing?" the Fuhrer asked.

"I'm going to hunt down the runners. If they get away they'll just turn more. I should be back by dawn. Besides it's not like I'd be much help fixing the tracks. I don't do manual labor. It messes up my manicure."

"What of Eastern?" he asked.

"I can't…feel that far away," Summer said. "But since they aren't returning your calls, they're probably over run. I don't remember anything about vamps acting like that. Usually they just stay in the shadows and feed when people wander by them unaware. They don't get…ambitions like this unless somebody is egging them on."

"I'll take that under advisement," The Fuhrer said. "You may pursue the others."

"Request permission to accompany Private Summers," Armstrong bellowed from inside one of the cars.

"Denied," the Fuhrer said. "You will patrol the immediate area for any remaining vampires."

There was a loud thwacking sound from inside the car, which Summer though might've been the sound of Armstrong saluting.

Summer walked the length of the train and tapped on one blank section of car wall. The wall peeled open and Ed leaned out. She held up her sword.

"Sharpen this for me, Short Stuff?" she asked sweetly.

He gritted his teeth and clapped his hands. He touched the blade and blue light ran along the length of it, healing nicks and notches and reforming the edge.

"Don't do anything stupid," the surly teenager growled as he let go the sword.

"Back at ya!" she said, sounding more herself then she had since the regeneration with the stone.

She turned and ran barefoot into the hills, bent low and searching for prey.

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**Somewhere in Eastern…**

Willow sat in an overstuffed chair, fiddling with the radio. Most of the stations that played music had gone dead in the last couple of days, but she thought if she kept looking, something interesting would turn up. Once in the while she'd hear a pirate broadcaster calling for help, and their theories about who and what was attacking them was good for a laugh. Besides, she needed something to kill time while she waited for her minions to bring her the ruler of Amestris. With him under her control, she'd have a vampire county in no time. She supposed she could've gone to oversee the operation herself, but all the carnage was becoming a bore.

"Master?" a vampire called hesitantly from the doorway.

She looked at him. It was one of the few left from Sunnydale. She supposed she'd have to get rid of him soon. Well, if he said something now, she'd have a good excuse. Of course she was their Master, she didn't really need an excuse. The vampire seemed to realize her thoughts were not in his favor.

"There's a problem in Southern," he said, fidgeting.

"What kind of problem," she asked.

"There…we…we've received word that some kind of greater demons are in that area…" the vampire said.

"And?" she asked.

She frowned. If she'd left some kind of dimensional gap behind her when she came to this world, it meant others from Sunnydale could follow; annoying former friends for example.

"They…the demons…they're wiping out all the vampires in the area," he said.

"Any idea what kind of demons they are?" Willow asked.

"No…but!" the vampire said holding up his hands in a placating manner. "But I had the ones who'd seen them describe them, and I drew these."

The vampire scuttled over to her and set a pair of slightly crumpled sketches in front of her, before darting back to the door. Willow inspected them. They looked human enough, except one was depicted as having a ridiculously large mouth, into which he was stuffing a stick figure vampire.

"I suppose I'll go deal with this," she said. "When the others get here with the Fuhrer, have them wait for me."

"Yes Master!"

"And do something about the holdouts in Eastern HQ," She said. "I want them all turned by the time I get back, especially that blonde female sniper. She looks interesting."

"Yes Master," the vampire said with slightly less enthusiasm.

Willow smiled to herself as she walked out under the stars, and reached her magic down into the earth. The ground shook and shadows rose up around her like smoke. She clenched her fists and the sky above Eastern disappeared.

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**Author's note:** Whew! It took forever to get this in the right order. Let me know what you think!


	31. Chapter 31

**Seeking the Incomplete**

**By Marz**

**Say Hi to Death for Me**

The night was long. Ed couldn't sleep for even the two hours he'd been granted between patrols. They'd caught eight of the vampires Summer had warned them about. One patrol of six guards vanished and were found at dawn, drained of blood.

The Fuhrer had managed to catch one of the creatures alive by taking off its legs, but he left it in a car with the shades up and it had gone up in flames when the sunlight touched it.

Ed, the Stone Alchemist, and the Forest Alchemist were drafted to fix the tracks the vampires had pulled up the night before. It took about an hour. They probably could have finished faster, but Ed stalled a bit, trying to give Summer time to get back. If Stone and Forest noticed, they didn't say. They fired up the coal car and started up a last-minute inspection of the train. Ed rushed to the presidential car, and caught up to the Fuhrer a moment before he stepped inside.

"Fuhrer President, Sir!" Ed said, bowing quickly. "We can't go yet; Summer isn't back."

"Give us a moment," the Fuhrer said, waving away his aides.

"My dear Fullmetal Alchemist," he began, putting a hand on Ed's shoulder. To outside observers it might appear a fatherly gesture, but it was all Ed could do not to shout and squirm away as the Fuhrer's hand clamped down like a vice.

"I don't know how much you know or what your exact relationship to the mysterious Ms. Summers is, but you swore your loyalty to the State first," said the Fuhrer. A flash of rage passed across his face and something in Ed's shoulder cracked. "I won't tolerate traitors, Fullmetal, not even one as talented as you. Should you test my patience again, you may find that you drag others down with you: your brother, Colonel Hughes, that mechanic who came halfway across the country to patch you up; for example."

Ed started to growl out a threat of his own, but the Fuhrer crushed down harder and there was another snap. Agony shot through him, but he didn't flinch away. Ed glared but kept his mouth shut.

The Fuhrer plastered a paternal smile across his face. "You have a high tolerance for pain, and I respect that, but you are not indispensable. This is your only warning. Few get even that. Do you understand?"

Ed nodded.

"I'm sure Ms. Summers will catch up!" the Fuhrer added cheerfully, letting go. "Keep up the good work, Fullmetal!"

Ed bowed and went to his new compartment. Winry was leaning against Al, half-awake with her wrench still in her hand.

The Fuhrer was right. Summer would catch up. Even if she didn't catch up to the train, she would be alright. Summer was one of them. She couldn't really be harmed anymore.

Ed turned in a circle in the small space, feeling as if he were forgetting something very important. He slumped on the edge of the seat. His automail plug and now his left shoulder were aching. There was no way he would sleep.

They came across several more blockades and missing sections of track. Each time they stopped, and Ed was called forth to make repairs. Once they nearly collided with another train that had partially jumped the track. Clouds of flies moved inside the brown-stained windows. Ed went to help search the other locomotive, but a soldier coming back out of it grabbed Ed and clamped a hand over the teenager's eyes. He dragged Ed back to their own train, mumbling prayers the whole way. Armstrong cleared the rest of the crashed train from the track, and they continued on.

It was a journey that should have taken four hours, but it stretched into ten. They passed several burned-out stations with people waving desperately to them. They didn't even slow down.

Finally they turned out onto the plains, and Eastern Headquarters lay ahead of them. Ed could see many buildings around the military base were burning and clouds of smoke trailed up into the sky. They pulled into the station, which was a bit scorched, but not actively burning. There were two dozen soldiers in blue uniforms lined up on the platform. As the brakes squealed and the train settled, Ed saw the worn-looking men and women were carrying long wooden pikes as well as rifles.

Al grabbed Winry's suitcase and followed Ed as he scrambled out of the compartment. Winry followed, for once not complaining about being rushed. All the other alchemists were in a hurry to get out as well, and the platform was soon swarming with annoyingly tall people. Ed finally decided to follow the royal party, because he could see Armstrong leading the group rather purposefully toward the ticket counter.

"Who's in charge here?" one of the Fuhrer's aides demanded.

Ed pushed through a line of tall men in blue just in time to see Lieutenant Hawkeye step forward. Her hair was pulled back in its usual professional bun, and her uniform was probably the cleanest one on the platform, but somehow she still looked a mess.

"Sir," she said, saluting. "Did our messengers get through?"

"No," the Fuhrer said. "Who is in command here? Where is General Hakuro?"

"You won't see him in daylight, sir," Hawkeye said. "Most of the officers were turned weeks ago. Those of us who haven't been made into vampires have been trying to regain control of Eastern in hopes of warning Central Command. Unfortunately, many soldiers are still following Hakuro's orders, despite the fact that he's dead. Fuhrer President, Sir, if you could come with us to the forward camp, your presence might be enough to convince the living troops still siding with Hakuro of the legitimacy of our operation."

"Are you the ranking officer here?" the Fuhrer asked. "What happened to your commanding officer, Colonel Mustang?"

Hawkeye looked away, and Ed felt his stomach drop.

"Answer me, Lieutenant."

Ed didn't want her to answer.

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**Weeks Earlier….**

Lt. Riza Hawkeye slipped along the wall, aware of all the eyes that came to rest on her in the open spaces. Her side arm, and her backup, and her holdout and the gun in her ankle holster were all fully loaded, but it didn't make her feel any safer.

Fuery, Breda, and Falman were waiting in her apartment. The dorms weren't safe, and at the moment rumors of fraternization were the least of her concerns. Fuery had brought a little black and white dog with him when he came with his duffle and sleeping bag. He said he'd come across someone trying to eat the small whimpering animal the night before. They were waiting for the colonel to arrive so they could plan their next move. He wasn't even late yet, but her stomach was twisting and she knew something was wrong.

There was no one on duty at the West Gate entrance and she rushed through, her steps coming faster and faster as she crossed the courtyard to the Alchemists' building. She darted up the stairs and ran full tilt down the hall to Mustang's office. She kicked open the door, drawing her gun. Her mouth dropped open and she froze.

Havoc and Mustang were sprawled across the Colonel's desk, and Havoc's face was pressed to other man's throat. There was an obscene slurping sound.

The gun went off in her hands.

The bullet struck Havoc high in the shoulder and he slowly raised his head. His normally blue eyes were now a jaundiced yellow and blood ran down his chin. He smiled, his enlarged canines sticking out past his lower lip.

"No need to get jealous, Riza," Havoc said, smirking. "I'll share."

She emptied the rest of the clip into him. He flinched a little as the bullets struck, but didn't seem especially perturbed.

"That wasn't very nice," he said as he got up off the desk.

Mustang slumped to the ground without the other's support. He wasn't dead, at least. Hawkeye could tell by the rhythmic spurts of blood coming from the wound in his neck. She'd have thought him unconscious at least, but as Havoc came towards her, Mustang flopped towards him and managed to catch the other man's ankle.

Havoc tripped slightly, and then kicked himself free. He looked back at Hawkeye just in time to see her boot slam into his chin. He stumbled backwards, falling against the Colonel's desk and stepping on its owner. She kicked him in the chest, and while her leg was extended, pulled the gun from her ankle holster. She shot him three times in the forehead.

Havoc collapsed and lay still on the office floor, half sprawled across the colonel. Hawkeye grabbed Mustang under the shoulders and pulled him free, dragging him out into the hall, keeping an eye on Havoc the entire time. Havoc wasn't breathing. His eyes were open, yellow and staring, but he didn't blink even as blood from the wound in his forehead dribbled into them.

She looked down at Mustang. The wound on his neck was ragged. It looked more like a dog had bit him than a human. His mouth moved, almost soundlessly repeating "leave" and "burn it" over and over again.

She pulled a clean handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to the wound in Mustang's neck. Her C.O. watched her with slightly glazed eyes as she tore off the sleeve of her uniform and used it to secure the makeshift bandage. It was already soaking through with blood, but there wasn't much else she could do. She couldn't run and get a doctor. There had to be more of those things, all around. She considered calling the others at her apartment. The phones weren't all that reliable lately, but the one in the Colonel's office…

She looked in the door to see if the phone had survived the fight.

Havoc was gone.

She got up and grabbed the colonel under the arms again, dragging him down the hall. Her eyes stayed on the door to his office the whole time. She got to the stairs and peered over her shoulder. There was nobody on the landing. The way looked clear.

When she looked back, Havoc was standing in the hall.

"Where are you going to take him, Riza?" Havoc asked. "He's already dying."

She leveled her gun.

"That won't kill me," Havoc said.

"It seemed to slow you down," she said.

"For a bit," he said. "But I'll be fine in a few days. You should let me finish, Hawkeye. In a day, he'll be fine, too."

"Stay back," she warned evenly.

"He needs to drink some of my blood," Havoc said. "He'll wake up tomorrow night, feeling just fine. He won't ever see the sun again, but he'll live forever. Don't you want him to live forever? What would you do without him, Riza?"

Havoc took a step closer and she shot him again. He started to dodge and bring up his arm. Instead of another head shot, she only grazed his forearm. He charged towards her. She shot again, but he was too close and she was still holding up the colonel with one arm. He plowed into her and she was thrown off her feet. She flailed as she dropped, missing every step of the stairs and crashing in a heap on the next landing. Her gun went off again, knocking plaster off the wall.

The wind was knocked out of her and she shook as she got up on her hands and knees. She saw Havoc leaning over the colonel again, pressing his wounded arm to the dying man's face. Mustang was trying to push him away. She brought up her gun, but her arm wobbled, and she didn't trust her aim. She grabbed the railing and dragged herself up the staircase. Havoc saw her coming and dragged the colonel further down the hall, where she couldn't see.

It couldn't have taken her more than half a minute to get to the top of the steps, but Havoc was already stepping back from Mustang's body.

"Too late!" Havoc called as he vanished into another office.

Hawkeye rushed to the still form of her commanding officer. He was still breathing, but was no longer conscious. There was blood smeared all over his face, and soaking his collar. She didn't know what she could do. He needed surgery. He needed a blood transfusion. Moving him would make it worse, but he would die in the hallway if she didn't. Choking back a sob, she wrapped his arms around her shoulders and staggered upright.

She gritted her teeth and started walking. She got him down the stairs. He was bleeding all over her shoulders. She wondered if those creatures could smell it. No one stopped her as she dragged Mustang past the security desk, but from the corner of her eye she saw something dart up the staircase she'd just left. She kicked open the main doors, and staggered to the stairs.

There was a shadow, hunched over and moving down the steps ahead of her. It had been coming towards the door, but had turned when it sprung open. It looked like a man; she could see his shoulders moving as he breathed, hurrying away, but not quite running. She realized she recognized the fleeing man.

"!" Hawkeye called.

The man turned to look at her as she dragged her bleeding C.O. across the courtyard towards him. She'd seen Wilkons that afternoon before heading to her apartment to check in with the rest of Colonel Mustang's people. If what Havoc said was true, that meant he wasn't one of them, not if she'd seen him in sunlight the same day.

"Lt. Wilkons, I need your assistance!" she called.

He turned away and kept walking.

"Wilkons!" she called. "Wilkons, please! I need to get the Colonel to a hospital."

He ignored her. She pulled her side arm.

"I will shoot you in the back!" she called.

He paused and looked over his shoulder at her.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant," he said and started walking again.

"Wilkons! Wilkons you bastard! Wilkons!" her voice echoed off the walls.

He got to the other side of the courtyard, and ducked around the side of the building. She could hear his footsteps fading away.

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**The Present…**

"The Colonel is currently not fit for duty," Hawkeye said.

"Is he at the forward camp?" the Fuhrer asked.

"No sir," Hawkeye said. "He's in the hospital."

Ed looked at Hawkeye's face. She was practically the Colonel's shadow. If he was alive, why wasn't she with him? Breda or Havoc could be out here meeting with them, couldn't they?

Ed supposed that could mean the other two officers were dead. Or it might mean Mustang was. Dead or alive, Hawkeye would still be following Colonel Mustang's orders, though.

The Fuhrer was watching her too, though Ed didn't think the man knew her well enough for her face to give away her feelings.

"I take it the Colonel is in a nice, sunny room," the Fuhrer said.

"All our people are sun checked every day, sir," she said.

"I think we will visit the Colonel first, before we have any kind of confrontation with Hakuro. Is he in the military hospital or-"

"Sir! There's something coming down the tracks!" a soldier called down from the roof of a building across the street from the station.

"What is it?" Hawkeye called.

"It's three flat cars with people all over them, and a hand car pulling it! They appear to be civilians, ma'am," the man on the roof bellowed.

Everyone on the platform looked West, to the speck that was growing out of the base of the hills. Those with binoculars pulled them out. Ed jumped, but the crowd that had been following the Fuhrer was too thick and annoyingly tall for Ed to see anything.

"It's Summer!" Al declared, completely unimpeded.

Winry grabbed one of Al's shoulder spikes and put a foot in the knee joint of his armor. With a huff, she pulled herself up Al's back so she, too, could see above the crowd. Ed had a conflicted moment before he did the same. If a freakishly tall person like Winry needed a boost to see, then there was nothing wrong with Ed getting one, too.

From over Al's shoulder, he could see the ragged line of cars, pulled along without an engine. Instead, a pale figure with a few scraps of blue cloth still attached to her was pumping the lever on the hand car up and down, with enough force to pull the crowded makeshift train behind her. Even a quarter mile out, Ed thought he could see the sun reflecting off her teeth as she grinned.

"Braking procedure!" Summer shouted.

Assorted pipes and boards were held over the side of the makeshift train and it dragged to a stop a hundred yards out from the station. The refugees climbed down and rushed towards the apparent safety of the city. Ed recognized several of the people they hadn't stopped for among them, and at the head of the not-so-little group was a worn but still grinning Summer.

"Did you guys just get here?" she bellowed.

"We had to fix a lot of the tracks!" Ed bellowed back.

"Yeah, right!" Summer said.

The Fuhrer looked a bit annoyed, but didn't speak against the arriving group.

"Hey! You got digs for these people? Daylight is burning!" she called.

"Who is that?" one of the exhausted local soldiers asked.

Summer hopped up onto the train platform as if it were the simplest thing in the world to hop five feet into the air from a standing start. She landed with unnatural grace on the edge of the platform, and blue uniformed soldiers stumbled back and into each other to clear a path between her and the royal party.

"Private Summers!" Armstrong called. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said. "But I'll be great if somebody remembered to bring my shoes along."

"We've got them!" Al declared. "One of the search groups brought them in before we moved the train."

Al bent to get them out of Winry's suitcase, and accidentally dislodged Ed and Winry from his shoulders in the process. Helpful soldiers caught Winry. Ed landed on the platform on his butt. Ed kicked his brother's ankle and was calling him a klutz when a strong hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back to his feet.

"Didn't miss me too much, did you, Shorty?" Summer asked, spinning Ed around and slapping some of the dust off his clothes. She was grinning sharply, but her eyes did not show any hints of purple.

"Who are you calling short?!" Ed demanded. "You undersized, overbearing, -Hey, that's cheating!"

As he spoke, Al had handed Summer her shoes. She slipped them on and gained three inches of height in the middle of Ed's rant. Summer winked at him. Killing an army of undead monsters really seemed to have improved her mood.

"So who's the boss around here?" Summer asked. "We've got maybe a couple hours before the vamps come out, and I've got almost a hundred people who need homes to bunk in. And I'm starving!" she declared, pulling Ed along towards the royal party. "You've been in this city before, right, Ed? Where can I get a really rare steak? Or maybe chocolate mousse? Or pot stickers? I'd kill a chaos demon with a q-tip for some pot stickers!"

"Private Summers," the Fuhrer said, cutting off her babbling before Ed could ask what a "chaos demon" or a "q-tip" was. "What do you have to report?"

Summer straightened up, and saluted politely, though with three quarters of her uniform gone, she didn't exactly look professional doing it.

"It took me longer than I expected to run down the sixty that headed for the hills. The last few of them found a car an hour before dawn and they were a bitch to catch. After I dusted them, I came across a bunch of village people hanging around the tracks as I followed your train. They all wanted to come to the Eastern military base. I tried to tell them they'd be better off in their own homes, but they seemed to think you all would have things under control around your power base. I guess not, though. The countryside is lousy with vamps. I couldn't stop to stake them all or we wouldn't have made it here before dark. This place, though…"

She trailed off, closing her eyes and turning her head as if trying to hear something.

"This place is vamp central," Summer said. "We might even find the big bad around here. Vampires wouldn't get this dense unless an uber badass was making them stick together. So much competition, not a lot of people to eat…"

"Private Summers, was it?" Hawkeye said as she trailed off again. "Perhaps you can give your report as we move? The forward camp is-"

"Lt. Hawkeye," the Fuhrer said in a cold tone. "We are going to see Colonel Mustang first."

"Sir, he isn't in any condition to assist you. General Hakuro's men-"

"What are you so squirrely about?" Summer asked. "Is he vampire or something?"

"No," Hawkeye said. "Not yet."

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**Outside Dublith…**

The shapeshifter was a challenge to follow and in the end she decided to follow the fat one. It was clear the two creatures were heading to the same place. Willow had watched them as they wandered through towns she'd taken over. The creatures would put some effort into killing the vampires they came across, but if a human got near them, the fat one wouldn't hesitate to eat them. After a few days of inspecting, the creatures began heading north, and Willow followed them all the way to a mansion outside the city of Dublith.

It was a huge house, and it probably cost a fortune-and-a-half just to maintain it. Willow didn't think much of the decor, all heavy drapes and lumpish blocks of furniture. If she decided to make this her new secret base, she'd definitely do something about that.

A girl in a French maid outfit stepped into her path, and it wasn't the nice French maid outfit, so glamorized in Halloween costumes, it was the old-fashioned, frumpy kind that went all the way to the ankle.

"May I help you with something?" the maid asked.

Her hands were clenched around a strange locket that looked almost like a gyroscope. Willow assumed it was some kind of talisman or weapon. Willow twitched her fingers and it flew from the girl's hand.

"I'm here to speak to your boss," Willow said. "Be a dear and wake her."

"Mistress Dante does not wish to be disturbed," the girl said, shifting nervously.

Willow smirked. "I can see you're more afraid of her than you are of me, but you shouldn't be."

Willow smiled wider and she felt the darkness leaking across the surface of her eyes. The girl turned and fled. Willow followed more slowly after her. She heard quiet steps as something came out of a side room and stalked down the hall behind her. She reached out with her magic and felt the thing in the dark. It was the shapeshifter. She grinned and winked at it. It growled and threw itself at her.

Willow waved a hand and stripped the thing's skin off.

It shrieked in frustration but kept coming, sparkling with purple light as it regenerated, and leaving bloody footprints on the carpet. It got almost close enough to touch her when Willow flicked her hand again, and sent it tumbling back down the hall.

Willow continued her stroll through the mansion, finally coming to a dimly lit dining room, the table still laid out with glittering dishes.

"What's all this?" asked a wavering, elderly voice.

The door on the other side of the dining room swung open and an old woman in a bathrobe shuffled in, her slippers flapping and dragging with each step. The French maid was following behind her, with a lantern in one hand and a pistol in the other.

"Why are you disturbing our peace at such an hour?" the old woman demanded.

"Well," Willow said. "Your evil minions are eating my evil minions and I think that's very counterproductive to…well, evil in general."

"My dear, I think you have mistaken me for someone else," the old woman said. "I would never be involved in anything like that. I must ask you to leave."

Willow could feel the rot withering the old body across the room. She could feel the even more ancient thing inside it. She could feel its pulsing lust, stretched out in dark tendrils towards her and the maid with the gun. She could almost hear it calling. _I will be young. I will be warm in that flesh. I will live. I will live_. Willow kept grinning as the magic whispered secrets in her ears.

Her mind was so cluttered with the spells she'd taken from Giles' library she often wasn't sure which ones she was using at any one time. She often found them interacting in unusual and destructive ways, and had to pick them apart before they destroyed her. It kept her busy, and it kept her mind off the past. It gave her what she needed to keep moving forward. Willow existed in the midst of onrushing chaos. Adding this ancient woman's spells to her own could only make it better.

"You don't want me to leave yet, granny," Willow said. "Because if I leave now, I'll leave in a bad mood, and this place will be a smoking crater behind me. You'll want to do your best to cheer me up, or you won't live to regret it."

Willow waved her hand and the maid's head twisted suddenly. The room echoed with the sound of her neck snapping. The body fell to the ground and the lantern crashed and shattered. Lamp oil splattered and burst into flame, setting the old woman's clothes alight.

The old woman pressed her hands together, and the fire went out. Willow felt the floor rumble beneath her feet and drifted a few lazy steps to the side to avoid the forest of needles that sprouted from the floor.

She felt the hulking creature that was sneaking up behind her, and she dodged again. It leapt through the space where she had been floating and crashed into the dining table, smashing the thick furniture into kindling and flipping plates and flatware into the air.

Willow raised a hand and kept the table settings floating, making the items spin so all the sharp edges were pointing at the old woman.

The old woman pressed her hands together again and the floor tore itself up, intercepting the projectiles before they could find their human target. The hulking creature got to its stubby feet and looked at Willow, whining like a dog. It leapt again, and this time Willow turned into mist, and it passed right through her.

"Why won't she go in my mouth?" the stupid fat creature asked.

CLAP!

The room filled with fire, but Willow had slipped out of the way again. This time she moved out of step with reality. She moved back in synch as the heat faded, and grinned at the old woman who stood in the burned room, looking more than a little annoyed. There was a purple pile of sparks on the ground, which grew and expanded back into the glutton.

"Ouch," the creature whined, before putting its fingers into its mouth as if to soothe a burn.

"Are you beginning to see how pointless this is?" Willow asked.

"It's not pointless, my dear," the old woman said. "It's called a diversion."

The scorched floor under Willow lit up as an array activated.

"Uh-oh," Willow muttered as dark arms wrapped around her.

She looked back over her shoulder, and saw the Gate, standing open, purple eyes staring out at her. Willow reached out with her magic, struggling to connect herself to the life force of this world. It pulled away from her. It knew she didn't belong. It wanted her gone. Everyone always wanted her gone. They wanted to leave her. They wanted her to be alone.

She dug in and shrieked as the Gate tried to pull her away. The house rattled as she used her spells to anchor herself. The floor beneath her feet buckled and pieces of the array snapped up. The dark arms still clung to her, though, and Dante stood watching with her hands pressed together. She didn't look frightened, even as her house fell down around her.

"My dear, what did you think you'd accomplish by coming here?" Dante asked. "This is my place. Did you think I would let you take it from me?"

Willow gritted her teeth and pulled, but the Gate gave her no ground. She had used this entity to get into this world. And she was fairly certain it was the same thing that had taken her eyes and Xander's arm and leg. It had taken Buffy with the blessing of the powers of their own world. She hated it.

Willow could feel the blood pouring out of her nose as she stretched out with her powers. This Gate demanded sacrifice; she would find one. She couldn't get to Dante or her creatures, and she'd killed the only other human in the immediate vicinity. She admitted to herself that that murder was a bit short-sighted.

Even as her strength started to ebb, she found two souls. She didn't have a very clear sense of them. They were walking together in the woods, miles away, but closer than the town. They were very attached to each other, so Willow grabbed them both.

The couple appeared between her and the Gate, amid the arms. The arms released Willow and seized the easier prey. For a moment she saw a middle-aged couple, a man with a frayed scarf and a woman with a flower in her hair. They had been holding hands, and still were as they were pulled into the dark. The Gate slammed closed behind them.

Willow exhaled slowly.

"You almost got me, granny," she said.

The shapeshifter and the glutton had moved to the old woman's side. The creatures watched her with purple, cat-shaped eyes. Willow still couldn't see any fear in the old woman's face, but it could just be hidden under layers of wrinkles. Willow was herself feeling a little shaky. Though the Gate hadn't managed to pull her in, its very touch left her feeling drained.

"You asked me why I came here?" Willow asked. "I'm looking for someone that was stolen from me. Your pets are in my way. I could care less what you do as long as it doesn't get in my way."

"Your creatures are quite destructive," Dante said. "They have thrown this country into chaos. Thousands of people are dead. Aren't you concerned that this person you are looking for might be among them?"

"I'm looking for the Slayer," Willow said. "It'll take more than a few thousand vampires to cause her problems. They'll draw her out, though."

Willow saw the shapeshifter grit its teeth as the word 'Slayer' registered.

"And you intend to find this Slayer, and take her with you when you leave?" Dante asked.

Willow smirked. "That's the plan."

"Then perhaps we can come to terms," Dante said.

"I don't know," Willow said. "It might just be easier to get rid of you."

"If it were that easy for you, you would've done it," Dante said. "Perhaps we are not evenly matched, but I am not someone you can simply brush aside. If you want to remove the Slayer from my realm, I have no objections. Your search methods leave something to be desired, though. You could have just asked where she was."

"Do you really know something, or are you just stalling for time again?" Willow asked.

Dante turned to the shapeshifter. "Envy, if you would?"

The shapeshifter gritted its teeth, and purple sparks flew from its skin. A moment later, Buffy was standing in front of her. She was dressed in a jumpsuit, sewn together from random scraps of cloth. Her face was smeared with clay and some darker substance, mimicking the tribal paint of the first Slayer.

"Looking for me?" Buffy asked.

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**Author's Note**: This update took forever and a half, but I think I've worked out the plot issues that have been holding things up.


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